Middle of Nowhere
by Zoius and the Devil
Summary: In the midst of war, Harry is bitten by a vampire. Alone in this electrifying new lifestyle, he is sent to Forks to live with the Cullens and master the art of vampirism. There he meets the strange, aloof Edward, whose eyes once mirrored his own… HP/EC
1. Full Moon

**AN: **So...I just discovered HP/Twilight xovers yesterday. I tried reading a couple but they sucked so I figured I'd do my own. I decided to post this little chapter and see how you all like it.

**Warnings: **This is slash. If you don't like it, too bad.

**Summary:** In the midst of war, Harry gets bitten by a vampire. Now, alone in this strange, electrifying new lifestyle, Harry is sent to America, to live with the Cullens and master the art of being a vegetarian vampire. There he meets the strange, aloof Edward, whose eyes once mirrored his own…HPEC. AU in that Sixth and Seventh Years are changed - *Spoiler! Spoiler!* never happened at the end of Sixth Year, and Harry never had to bother with Voldemort's *Spoilers!* during Seventh Year. Also: this story begins in May of Seventh Year.

**Disclaimer: **For this chapter and the rest of the story, I do not own these characters. They are the property of JK Rowling, Stephenie Meyer, etc. etc. I own the storyline, and that is all.

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**Chapter One: Full Moon**

_When the thorn bush turns white that's when I'll come home,  
I am going out to see what I can sow,  
And I don't know where I'll go,  
And I don't know what I'll see,  
But I'll try not to bring it back home with me._

_Full Moon, The Black Ghosts_

_-_

Harry Potter blinked his eyes blearily once, then opened them sharply.

He could see them—the tiny, graceful dust motes fluttering around the room, threaded through with shimmering particles of light.

He groaned at the sight, beautiful as it was. With one quick movement, Harry swung his legs around the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, screwing his eyes shut against the faint scent of human lingering about the room. He felt the familiar dry ache in his throat and despised it violently.

He had done it. He had bloody attacked Hermione.

After the bite, he had woken to utter…clarity. Enclosed in a large, white hospital room, Harry had sprung to his feet, amazed at the film of light and color glowing over everything, when Dumbledore entered and explained everything.

A few week or so ago, there had been a surprise attack on Hogwarts by a small but powerful region of Voldemort's supporters. However, the Order of the Phoenix had been well-organized and casualties were limited. Against explicit instructions, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had joined the battle and Voldemort's troops were all but defeated.

Just as victory had seemed within grasp, a vampire had sprung up from Voldemort's troops and bit Harry. As he fell to the ground, the vampire was killed instantly by a barrage of spells fired from the Order of the Phoenix, and Voldemort's troops receded.

Three days later Harry awoke to a completely different world—a world of phenomenal clarity and intense thirst.

Dumbledore had gone on to elaborate on the relationship between vampires and wizards. Vampires found wizard blood just as appealing as Muggle blood, but preferred Muggles as prey since vampires were susceptible to magic. Because of this, there had been few wizards-turned-vampires over the years, but all recorded cases kept their magic in vampirehood.

Harry had listened to all this with half an ear. Perhaps the best part of his new condition was that he could now almost see—as well as smell—magic. It had hung in a heavy cloud around Dumbledore, violet and potent. His own magic he couldn't see, but he did register the faint green glow surrounding his wand when Dumbledore returned it to him. His senses had gone haywire—he had found himself swiveling his head and glancing sharply around the room, from the headmaster's visage—so new and different—to the plain white walls, which seemed alive with a thousand tiny details he had never registered before.

Also, he had frowned at Dumbledore's scent—even though his throat was parched with thirst, the headmaster's aroma of ink and magic had not appealed to him.

He had voiced in doubts in an odd, thrilling voice, boyish and smooth.

"Ah, Harry," Professor Dumbledore had replied, "I was wondering when you would ask that question. You see, a newborn vampire encountered with humans—even if it catches their scent from miles away—is quite liable to go mad with thirst. As such, I have had Professor Snape brew me a potion that somehow masks the desirable quality in human blood."

Harry had nodded, still only half-focused. He had suddenly stood and began pacing around the room. His limbs were feeling light, strong, _alive_—he had longed to be out of this place and springing through the castle, or testing his strength against the Forbidden Forest.

And the sharp, raw ache in his throat had worsened.

"My boy," Dumbledore had interrupted, "I must implore you to take a seat. I'm afraid you're making me quite dizzy." For the first time since he had entered the room, Dumbledore's tone lightened and his eyes began twinkling.

Harry had stopped abruptly. He hadn't realized he'd been going fast at all.

Dumbledore had sensed his confusion and sighed. "Harry, my boy," he had begun. "I…I truly am sorry for this." Upon seeing Harry's frightened expression, he'd continued, "Vampires are truly creatures of magic—they command not only grace and beauty, but incredible power as well." It had been hard for Harry to imagine himself commanding any of that.

"However, they are also…immortal."

The last bit had struck him like a blow in the stomach. He had sat down suddenly, numb to whatever else Dumbledore was preparing to say. The headmaster, sensing this, had quietly gotten up and left the room.

_Immortal._

And so Harry had stayed in his plain white prison for another week. Pints of blood had begun to appear on his bedside at regular intervals, and he'd tried not to think about whose blood it was as he drank them greedily—though they never quite quenched his thirst. It was worse because he couldn't sleep, and so he'd lie awake into the night, wondering about the headlines, about whether he would be shunned by the wizarding world. The Boy Who Lived To Be Undead.

Finally, he'd tried to imagine another decade, another century, another millennium like this—alone and alive, restless and thirsty.

By the time Ron and Hermione were allowed to visit, safe under the influence of Dumbledore's potion, Harry had gone half-mad with isolation and thirst. His friends had entered the room to find him scaling one of the walls, another test for his strange new body.

"Ron!" he had cried in his new voice, dropping lightly to the ground, "Hermione!"

They had both stared. Behind them, he'd spotted Professors McGonagall and Snape, also staring.

Then, Hermione had rushed forward for a hug, gasping as she touched his skin.

"No, you stupid girl!" Snape had cried, starting forward.

Even with the potion, Harry hadn't been able to take it. The human against him, the faintest siren's song of her blood…her body felt so hot next to his, and he could not only hear but also _feel_ her heart thumping erratically against his own still one.

_Hermione_, he had thought dazedly as his mouth had fallen open of his own accord. _I'm sorry, Hermione_.

"Get away from me!" he had yelled suddenly, and Hermione had sprung back, just seconds before Harry leapt after her and was hit by a stunning spell.

And now here he was, alone and thirsty once more.

He clutched fiercely at his hair. It felt good, being able to use his strength, even if the pain made him bite back a sob. Without looking up, he reached over and punched the wall beside his bed. His hand went clean through and into a deserted corridor. For a second, he thought wildly about escaping, about running away from it all—from Hogwarts, Voldemort, and this plain white room.

Then he heard footsteps, and leapt up as he scented the headmaster's approach.

"Professor!" he exclaimed, scrubbing furiously at his cheeks, even though they were completely dry.

Dumbledore was looking happier than Harry had seen him all week. "Hullo, Mr. Potter. I see you have discovered the strength of your new body." He glanced pointedly at the hole in wall, and Harry wondered if vampires could flush.

"Professor," he continued anxiously, shoving his anxiety away, "What happened? Is Hermione all right? What about Ron—I didn't attack him too, did I?" It had all been so fast—the venom rushing into his mouth, the heat enveloping his thoughts. He felt his face screw up in guilt.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm afraid I can't understand, Harry. You're speaking far too quickly."

Abashed, Harry repeated what he said slowly, enunciating each word.

Dumbledore offered him a small smile. "Both Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley are in top condition. Harry, I must ask you not to blame yourself for this mix up. Even with the protection of the potion, Ms. Granger should not have pushed your restraint so."

Harry continued staring miserably at the ground.

"On another note, Harry, I suspect that you are thoroughly sick of these living conditions by now. It was cruel of us to keep you isolated for so long, but we could not risk you wandering the grounds or the Forbidden Forest—not with the student body so near. However, it is high time you truly explore your new birthright."

Harry stared at him, puzzled.

"If you don't mind, Harry, I believe it would be best if you left Hogwarts for a year."

Harry felt his stomach clench. He had been aching to leave just a minute ago, but now, faced with the possibility of an eternity alone—

"Professor—" he interrupted. Dumbledore held up a hand for silence.

"Just a second, if you please, Harry. As I was saying, I believe that you should leave Hogwarts for a year and live in America, with a group of fellow vampires. I happen to know their leader, and I've spoken to him about your situation. He has accepted my request."

"But why—" started Harry desperately.

"You see, Harry, a newborn vampire cannot stand to be around humans for almost a year. The scent is simply too alluring to resist. However, these vampires do not partake in human blood—they only drink that of animals, which is what I have been giving you the past week. With them, you can learn not only to resist the temptation humans offer, but also come to terms with your vampire heritage. I will help you with your magical tutelage by sending lessons every fortnight. After a year, you will be able to rejoin the magical world."

Harry's stomach clenched at the thought of being separated from Hogwarts and from Ron and Hermione. "What about Voldemort?" he asked Dumbledore desperately.

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Considering recent events, Harry, I believe its only fair you get a respite. The Order of the Phoenix can stave off any attacks. However, if you consider yourself ready to return to the wizarding world at any time after six months, you may do so."

Harry said nothing, frowning at the ground.

"Shall I give you some time to think it over, Harry?" offered Dumbledore, beginning to stand.

"No!" said Harry, his arm snaking out in a flash and stopping inches away from the Headmaster. He thought of spending another day in agitated isolation and fought to rein control of his emotions. "No, I…I'll do it."

-

The next few hours passed very quickly. Dumbledore had the house elves pack his trunk and collect Hedwig and then bring both down. He told Harry about the vampire family he would soon be meeting—the Cullens. Apparently there were seven of them—Harry tried not to feel sick at the thought of meeting them all as Dumbledore told him their names, which he promptly forgot in his nervousness.

Finally, Harry found himself sitting on his bed, perfectly still in his anxiety. Hedwig and his trunk sat next to him, and Dumbledore had left the room to get his portkey. He returned soon with Ron and Hermione in tow, Harry gasping as he caught their scent heading towards him.

While Dumbledore walked lightly into the room, his two friends stood awkwardly in the doorway, gazing at him. For the first time since his transformation, Harry truly looked at them—the way Hermione's brown eyes seemed to shine with equal parts worry and affection, and how Ron's freckles stood out against his pale skin. Around Hermione, a glowing aura of amber magic resided, pulsing faintly. Ron was surrounded by a similar aura, though it was colored a pale blue and was also rather thinner.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" cried Hermione suddenly.

Harry was taken aback. "You're sorry?" he repeated incredulously. "I'm the one who bloody attacked you!"

Hermione shook her head wildly. "No, I shouldn't have done that. It was stupid of me. It's just that—well, I was so relieved—and now you look so…so…"

She trailed off. Despite the guilt churning in his stomach, Harry broke out into a small, relieved smile.

Hermione gasped a little at the sight and seemed to melt against the doorframe.

"Blimey," said Ron, glancing from Hermione to Harry. "I never thought I'd say this but—Harry, you're—well, you're bloody _pretty_."

Harry gaped.

"Well, you are," said Ron defensively. "I mean, look at what you did to her." He nodded toward Hermione, who flushed and pulled herself together.

"Oh, do shut up, Ron," she snapped. "If you must know, that's only part of a vampire's charm. I've been doing some reading—"

Here, Ron rolled his eyes and mouthed at Harry, 'Shocker'! Harry stifled a laugh, and Hermione cut herself off with an angry snort, muttering to herself about immature boys.

Suddenly Dumbledore cut in lightly, "I'm sorry to interrupt, Harry, but your portkey is ready."

Sighing, Harry nodded and turned back to his friends. He really would miss them.

"Well, I guess this is it," he began awkwardly.

Hermione burst into tears. "Oh, H-Harry—we'll m-m-miss you s-so!" she hiccupped.

Ron patted her stiffly on the back before turning back to Harry. "I guess I'll see you, mate. I'll write you." He grinned suddenly. "Try not to have too much fun with your kick arse new powers."

Harry grinned back, relieved. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be having loads of fun sucking people's blood like—like some twisted version of Malfoy."

Ron laughed. "It should've been Malfoy who got bitten. I swear, that git's only one step away from being a vampire anyway. Remember the Yule Ball? He definitely looked the part!"

They both laughed at the memory, and then Ron led the still-sniffling Hermione away. Harry tried not to let his heart sink as he turned back to Dumbledore. He picked up his trunk and Hedwig as if they weighed nothing, and the old man handed him the portkey—a small golden galleon.

"Ready Harry?" he asked, beaming. Harry nodded, despite his mind's frantic pleas to the otherwise. Dumbledore smiled at him.

"You're strong, Harry, and unless I'm terribly mistaken, you'll be fine. If you ever get too anxious, however, I find it soothing to suck on some lemon drops."

Harry felt a sudden weight in his pockets and looked up into Dumbledore's eyes, which seemed to dance. Then he felt a familiar tug on his navel and was gone.

**TBC...**


	2. No Man's Land

**AN: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed and added me to their favorites/alerts list. You guys definitely inspire me to update faster. Wink wink. Sorry that this is the dullest chapter ever, but I had to get it out of the way.

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**Chapter Two: No Man's Land**

_But maybe I'm a little bit weak - I let my frailty take the wheel._

_Middle of Nowhere, Hot Hot Heat_

To Harry's surprise, the sensation of using a portkey was far less disconcerting than it had been before. As if in slow motion, he felt himself circle several times before landing lightly on his feet in the middle of a large, luxurious room. Surrounding him was a semicircle of young people, all gazing at him curiously. Harry stared back, eyes flitting from one pale face to another. The Cullens.

He had never seen a vampire before, not truly—the vampire who had bitten him had been too fast to properly appraise, and he didn't count the strange one he'd met during his second year at Hogwarts—and textbook illustrations hardly did them justice.

They were beautiful. And heartbreakingly, devastatingly inhuman.

With his new vision, he could see every minute detail—and so he realized that the vampires were bizarrely flawless. Their faces were smooth and sharp, as if plucked out of a dream. Light reflected enthrallingly off their marble skin, and their eyes were a deep glowing color, like molten gold. Harry felt his introduction freeze in his throat. He simply stared at the Cullens, enchanted.

"Is this it?" said a huge, burly vampire suddenly, indicating Harry, who shrunk back a little at his sheer _size_. Even when human, this boy could have probably outstripped Hagrid in a competition over muscle mass.

"No, Emmett. This is that _other_ boy who was supposed to pop into our living room today," replied another vampire, this one female. Even the waspishness in her tone couldn't take away from her beauty—tall and blonde, the female was striking. Harry suddenly wished Ron were here—if his best friend had acted like a love-struck fool in the presence of Fleur Delacour, imagine what he would do if he saw this blonde. Probably faint flat out and/or spontaneously combust.

"Don't be like that, Rose," replied the large vampire, Emmett, pouting. "I'm just saying…I mean, his eyes. They're _green_."

Harry blinked. Emmett obviously wasn't the fastest flier on the team.

"Erm…is something wrong?" Harry ventured finally, still rather dazed by the Cullens' beauty.

"Oh no, dear, of course not," said another female vampire, this one with brown hair and a heart-shaped face. "We've been expecting you—it's so wonderful to finally meet you." She gathered him into a soft, motherly hug. After a few seconds hesitation, Harry patted her awkwardly on the back, feeling an inexplicable knot of emotion well up within him. It felt like the first bit of human...or, at least, proper contact he'd had in ages.

"I'm Esme," said the kind female when she finally pulled away, "and this is my husband, Carlisle." A handsome blond man in his twenties stepped forward.

"Hello," he said, shaking his hand and offering Harry a friendly smile. "Welcome to our home."

Harry smiled back nervously. "Hello," he told them. "I'm Harry Potter." He paused a beat, and then turned to the next vampire, another blond one, this one in his teens - and, Harry noticed, very heavily scarred. He tried not to stare.

"Jasper," the blond offered, nodding politely at Harry, who nodded back and was just about to mumble a 'hello' when the tiny brunette vampire on Jasper's right leapt forward and smiled brightly.

"Hi, Harry," she said, rapidly pumping Harry's arm up and down, "I'm Alice and I read the future."

Harry blinked. "…Do you?" he said uncertainly, wondering if this was some sort of odd vampire joke he wasn't in on.

"Yep," continued Alice cheerfully, giving his arm one last pump before finally stepping back. "I knew about your arrival a week ago, and as such, I took the liberty of designing your bedroom!" She smiled dazzlingly.

"Oh," said Harry in reply, "Well. Thanks."

"No problem!"

Feeling a little bit disoriented, Harry turned to the next vampire, the beautiful golden-haired female.

"Er, hi," he muttered as he dazedly watched her flip her hair. "It's Rose, right?"

"Rosalie," sniffed the blonde, and turned to stare disinterestedly out the window.

"Oh," replied Harry, but before he could begin to feel mortified, the brawny vampire stepped forward.

"Don't mind Rose," he said, grinning. "She has this weird, extremely rare disease—it's called Perma-PMS, and it's resistant to almost all cures." He ducked as the blonde vampire threw a punch in his direction. "Anyway, I'm Emmett."

Harry couldn't help but grin back at Emmett. "Nice to meet you, Emmett. I'm Harry." Then he turned to the last vampire, who had as of yet been standing unobtrusively at Emmett's side at the edge of the semicircle.

"Edward Cullen," said the vampire as his eyes came up to meet Harry's. "It's nice to meet you." Harry couldn't help but feel a kind of rueful admiration as he listened to Edward Cullen speak—even with his transformation, his own rather boyish tones couldn't compete with Edward Cullen's velvety voice. In fact, none of Harry could compete with Edward Cullen at all. The boy stood at around his height, and boasted a slender, lanky frame and bronze hair in that perfect state of disarray Harry's had never achieved.

"Er, I'm Harry Potter," blurted out Harry in reply, and then immediately felt stupid because of course the bronze-haired boy already knew his name. He had just introduced himself, oh, maybe five times?

Edward Cullen's lips quirked.

An hour or so later, Harry found himself settled in a bedroom just as large and plush as the rest of the Cullen estate. He registered the chic décor—dark wooden floorboards, with a desk, several bookshelves, a nightstand, and the bed frame done in the same dark wood. There were two large, cushy beanbags on the floor, one black and one a nice evergreen color, complimenting the bedspread, which was also green. Like the rest of the Cullen house, the southernmost wall was made up of a large glass window. Sunlight streamed in, showering everything with natural light.

He appraised the room uncomfortably. Hogwarts had been luxurious as well, but in a subtler, homier manner. Harry felt out of place in this blatantly pricey place.

"Rather Slytherin, isn't it?" he said to Hedwig, who was sitting in her cage on his desk and looking longingly out the window. "Not that I don't appreciate it, of course," he added, walking over to his snowy white owl and opening both the cage and the window for her. "It's just a bit…fancy," he finished lamely as Hedwig took off with a hoot of thanks.

For a second he stood and watched her fly away, admiring the graceful flap of her wings, before he turned back to his bedroom. He fingered the bedspread, absently wishing it were red and gold, before spotting the door off to the side. Curiously, he pulled it open.

It was a closet. And a rather large one at that.

"Merlin, what am I supposed to do with all this room?" he wondered aloud as he lifted up his trunk, which had been sitting at the foot of his bed as it had done all his Hogwarts years, and placed it in one corner of his new walk-in closet. He stared at it for a moment, looking lonely in the wide space, before turning to leave.

Then a flash of white caught his eye, and he whirled back around.

It was a mirror—a full length oval one in the corner. For a moment, Harry ogled the pale apparition it featured.

Bloody _hell_. Ron was right—he was fucking gorgeous.

Harry blinked.

The reflection was still there—a boy with a shock of jet-black hair that stood in stark relief against the white of his skin. Harry ruefully mourned the loss of the tan his many Quidditch practices had afforded.

Still, whatever good the tan had done him, these new changes by far made up for it. His face and body were still quite thin, and his knees were still a little bit knobbly, but other than that almost all his previous awkwardness had gone. His complexion was now smooth and fair, and his features were still the same, but somehow more appealing. As if someone had carefully reshaped them a little to bring out the best in him.

He pushed his glasses up over his hair and leaned in for a closer look. His eyes were still vividly green, and he absently remembered what Emmett had said earlier. "_They're… _green_._" Still, he found his eye color somewhat comforting—that and his hair were the only things Harry still recognized about himself, though his hair was now attempting to curl in a rather more obliging fashion than it had ever done before.

"If you're done admiring yourself, I wanted to invite you to dinner."

Harry spun around. He had been so engrossed in his reflection that he hadn't even noticed Emmett sneaking up on him. The huge vampire was leaning against the door-frame, grinning.

"Emmett—! You scared me." He felt his stomach sink with embarrassment. "I, er, I wasn't admiring myself, I was just surprised—"

"Yeah, yeah, save it," replied Emmett playfully. "Now let's eat." Harry blinked, and Emmett clarified, "We're taking you hunting."

It was cool inside the forest. Harry kept his senses on alert as he scanned the leafy canopy, uncomfortably thinking of the Forbidden Forest and its many perils.

Apparently his first hunting trip was a special occasion of sorts—the whole Cullen family was with him. They sped through the undergrowth like wraiths, and Harry found the pace exhilarating—it seemed to him like he'd been waiting an eternity of stretch his limbs, to _run_. The cool air felt good on his skin, and it even soothed his throat a bit. For the first time in a while, he felt his mind go blank.

However, he snapped back to the present in a few minutes, when they reached a small clearing and Carlisle stopped.

"We should split up," he said for Harry's benefit. "It's easier for us all to find prey that way."

Immediately, Alice said, "I call Harry!" and winked at him. Harry looked away, feeling an odd combination of embarrassment at the attention but also appreciation towards her.

Carlisle nodded. "Alice, Rosalie, you two take Harry. The rest of us will move in our normal formations." He sent a small smile Harry's way. "Good luck."

And with that, he and Esme were gone, with Jasper, Emmett, and Edward flitting away a second later.

"Come on Harry!" said Alice from the edge of the clearing. Harry stole one more glance around the forest and followed.

They wove between the trees with no apparent effort. Harry was feeling apprehensive about the task ahead of him, but the ache in his throat overpowered his doubt. Suddenly, he stopped short.

"Harry?" called Alice from ahead, Rosalie peering at him from behind her place in a tall evergreen.

Harry didn't respond—he could hardly hear her. All he could smell was living flesh, just a few miles away. Venom sprang unbidden into his mouth, and his throat was _burning_.

He changed course, fairly flying over the forest floor.

There it was—he saw it after a few seconds of breathless running. A large bear with a long shaggy coat, lumbering amidst the trees.

He sped up, advancing quickly, and took the last hundred yards at a leap. The bear, having scented him at the last minute, turned around and bellowed loudly—

And then Harry was upon it, ripping his nails through the matted coat, his lips instinctively positioned over the jugular—and it was over. Harry drank and drank. In a short time he had sucked the bear dry, and found himself crouching over its mangled carcass, his front bloody and his clothes ruined.

Still the ache persisted. It was fainter, but it was there. He needed more. The bear's blood was slightly off, but it was also hot and metallic and alive, and _he needed more_.

He began licking the blood dripping off his palms before he realized what he was doing.

"Disgusting," he muttered to himself as he appraised the bear's remains, feeling a wave of revulsion overcome him. "Shit." Reflexively, he ran his hands through his hair and then buried his face in them, which made things even worse.

However, the ache was still as persistent as ever. And he could hear Alice and Rosalie close behind him, so Harry took flight once more.

"Geez. You look like you got into a fight with a mountain lion…and _lost_."

That was Emmett. He, Jasper, and Edward arrived in the clearing near the Cullen house just moments after Alice, Rosalie, and Harry did.

Harry raised his eyebrows dryly. "Close… but I didn't lose."

"Harry!" Esme and Carlisle darted into the clearing as well. "What happened?" Esme continued, rushing forward. "Are you alright—?"

"I'm fine," said Harry, somewhat glad for the attention but also shy of it. "I just…It's all still a bit new for me." In truth, he was rather disturbed by his own behavior—he had just taken down not only a bear and a mountain lion, but also a large moose—but he sent Esme and the rest of the Cullens what he hoped was a reassuring look. They gazed back probingly, all except Rosalie, who was as usual gazing away at some point far in the distance.

"Oh!" said Alice suddenly. "There's going to be a thunderstorm tonight!"

The awkward silence was broken. Emmett grinned and slapped Jasper a high five.

"Yes!"

The Cullens quickly fell into lively conversation. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Eyes were off him—well, all except a single pair, glowing gold in the wake of their recent meal. Edward Cullen was staring at him.

Harry stared back for a few seconds. Edward Cullen didn't look away, and Harry began to grow unnerved. After a minute of unabashed staring, he progressed to irritated.

"Yes?" he snapped finally.

Cullen didn't respond. With one final searching look, he turned away and flitted towards the house.

After they reached home, Harry excused himself and escaped up to his room. There he stared around blankly for a moment. Hedwig was back, so he should probably write to Ron and Hermione now. But first he needed a shower. Wincing at the amount of grime on his person, Harry opened the door to his closet and rummaged through his trunk for a change of clothes, ignoring the mirror in the corner.

In the end, though, he couldn't help but catch sight of himself as he stood to exit. Sighing in resignation, he turned to properly appraise himself.

It was worse than he'd thought. His clothes were torn to shreds and splattered with blood and filth. His arms, face, and hair were likewise streaked with blood, drying a reddish black, and his eyes were even greener then before, almost luminescent.

Despite everything, he was still beautiful.

Snorting in disgust, Harry headed for the bathroom. He was accosted by Alice along the way.

"Getting ready, Harry?" she chirped brightly.

"Getting ready?" replied Harry blankly. "For what?"

"'For what?' Are you serious?" Alice squinted at him carefully. "Weren't you listening earlier in the clearing, when I said there would be a thunderstorm?"

"Oh. Er, no, I suppose not," he said sheepishly. He had been engaged in that strange staring contest with Edward... "Sorry."

She smiled. "It's not a big deal. I was just wondering...are you ready for baseball tonight?"

Harry stared. "What?"

**TBC...**

**AN: **There you have it. As you can see, I took great pains to keep Harry as normal looking as possible. I hate fics where he's a veela/dragon/unicorn/fairy/some mutant combination of the four and becomes totally different. What's the point of writing a fanfiction if the characters are completely transformed?

Anyways, I also hope everyone's as IC as possible. Oh, and don't worry: any questions you may have pertaining to Harry's eye color and the like will probably be answered soon.


	3. Achilles Last Stand

**AN: **Wow. Don't expect the rest of my updates to be this fast. It's short, but I think the speed with which I got it up makes up for it. And you finally get some Harry/Edward interaction! I know it's slow, but...yeah. Bear with me.

**Oh, and this story takes place in Edward's sophomore year at Forks!**

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**Chapter Three: Achilles Last Stand**

_Oh to sail away, to sandy lands and other days._

_Achilles Last Stand, Led Zeppelin_

_-_

The Cullens spent sunset preparing for the upcoming baseball game. Alice, after learning that Harry knew next to nothing about baseball—not only was it a Muggle game, but it was an _American_ Muggle game, muttered Harry in his own defense—gave Harry a crash course in the fundamentals of the game. Apparently, there were seven innings, and each team batted once each inning. The batter received three strikes—three pitches, really, because Alice never threw balls—before they were out. If a ball was hit up in the air and a fielder caught it—also known as a pop fly—they were out. Hits on the ground were more desirable, because then the batter would need to be tagged out, explained Alice.

Harry listened to this all with a strong sense of impending doom and tried to keep his facts straight. All too soon it began drizzling. The Cullens gathered their equipment and trooped out.

Harry, who was carrying a base, scowled at the rain. At Hogwarts, he had been famous for his athleticism. But now all his primary school memories were flooding back—dodgeball, kickball, cricket—all of which had resulted in the ball having a near-magnetic attraction to Harry's head/gut, though Dudley and his gang could be largely blamed for that.

Regardless, he had always been picked last for teams, he reflected sourly.

Mercifully, that last one at least wasn't the case for the Cullens. Alice and Rosalie were elected team captains, and Alice immediately claimed Harry. Esme was the umpire, and Rosalie's team was first up at bat.

Alice grinned as she directed Harry to center field. "Trust me," she told him with a quick wink. "You'll be fine."

Morosely, Harry trudged out to his designated position. The downpour was thickening now, and it bounced harmlessly off Harry's granite skin. He realized that Alice hadn't given him a glove and supposed that vampires probably didn't need them.

Suddenly, a clap of thunder shook the mountains, and the game was on.

Rosalie was up to bat first. Alice, who was pitcher, flicked her wrist and somehow managed to turn that into a perfect strike. Harry watched as Rosalie swung and sent the ball hurtling off somewhere to Harry's left.

Out of reflex, he reached out and caught it.

"Out!" called Esme, and Emmett grinned at him. Harry stared at the ball in his hands for a second—it was almost the exact same size as the Snitch.

He grinned.

This, he could handle.

And then he tossed the ball back to Alice, who sent him another one of her knowing winks.

-

By the time his team came up to bat, Harry's short burst confidence had all but disappeared. His team was down by one, and he eyed the aluminum bat Alice handed him with no small amount of trepidation.

Jasper batted first, starting them off with a grounder to short and thus managing a single. Next was Alice, who hit another grounder and made it to first, though Jasper was tagged out at second.

Then it was Harry's turn. He stepped up to the batter's box and awkwardly shouldered the bat. He squinted at Rosalie, who was winding back to throw—

And there! Harry watched in dismay as the ball raced towards him. Instinctively, he brought the bat around.

Miraculously, the ball sailed out over the clearing and into the surrounding woods.

For a moment Harry stood gaping after it. Then he heard Emmett boom from behind him, "GO!"

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Harry made a break for first base—then second, then third, and finally he was rounding home, triumphant in his unprecedented success—

"Out!"

Harry stopped short just a few feet past home. Edward Cullen was emerging from the woods, his left hand held high. In it was a small white baseball.

Harry scowled.

-

As the game progressed, Harry felt his competitive spirit returning. His team managed to get another run on account of Emmett's exceedingly powerful hit, and then the inning was over and he was back in the outfield.

He was determined to get Edward Cullen out.

However, the bronze-haired boy proved a good ballplayer. While Harry caught another one of Rosalie's hits, Edward smashed the ball into the ground, stealing second before Emmett, who was playing infield, could chase the ball down and tag him out. Next up was Carlisle, who hit another powerful grounder and brought Edward home. The score was now 2-1, with Harry's team down.

Rosalie's team managed to score another two runs—each of them due in part to Edward's infallible hitting—before Alice and the rest finally managed three outs.

Harry hit another pop fly, which Edward Cullen caught.

-

By the time the seventh inning began, Harry was tugging his hair in frustration. He hadn't gotten on base _once_. All his hits had either been caught, or, in the case of one rather sub-par grounder to second, he had been tagged out. He stomped his way to center field, seething.

His aggravation only intensified as Rosalie got a hit out to right field that he couldn't quite reach. He caught the ball on the first bounce and threw it to Emmett, but Rosalie was already on base.

Edward hit a triple, bringing Rose home. Carlisle followed up with a huge pop fly that Harry caught. Rose followed up with a grounder that got her out but brought Edward home.

Harry's team was now down 6-3, and Edward Cullen was up to bat again.

Harry watched with narrowed eyes. Alice threw another one of her expert pitches, and Edward made contact with a roar that seemed louder than the actual thunder, and the ball was hurtling up, far above Harry's head—

He began chasing it down, but it was moving too fast—soon it would be in the forest and out of sight—

So Harry jumped.

In a split second, his muscles tensed. It seemed to him that he'd been cooped up for years, and he just finally had the chance to release the strength coiled in the pit of his stomach—

He must have soared at least thirty yards straight up. It was almost like flying. The small white ball fluttered of its own accord into his outstretched palm, and all too soon his feet were back on the ground.

He turned around to find the Cullens all watching him. Harry honed in on Edward, who had already lapped the bases.

He allowed himself a single smirk, and Edward Cullen looked appropriately flabbergasted.

Then Esme called out a belated "out!" and Emmett whooped and slapped him a high five.

-

Harry entered his room later that night with a feeling of deep-seated satisfaction. His team had lost 6-4, and his last hit had been another grounder which Edward had thrown out. Still, the look on Cullen's face had been priceless. Harry wasn't much of a gloater, but the thought of it still sent a shiver of satisfaction up his spine. He grinned to himself as changed into his pajamas.

His bed seemed huge to him. He tossed out a few of the many pillows decorating it and lay back, staring at the ceiling. His earlier elation was slowly slipping away, replaced by the mounting feeling of homesickness. His sensitive ears could hear many things—the crickets outside, the Cullens in their various rooms, the light tread of a cat upon the roof—but still the night seemed empty and endless without the familiar snoring of his dorm mates and the sweet pull of sleep.

He didn't know how long he lay there, staring up with unseeing eyes. The Cullens seemed to respect his need for privacy; nobody disturbed him.

Finally, pangs of restless and thirst brought him to his feet, and he left through the window for a midnight hunt. He quickly took down another mountain lion and sucked it dry, immersing himself in the warm spicy taste of its blood as it filled his mouth and rushed through his cold veins. After he had finished, he dragged the carcass into the shadows and looked around.

Would this be eternity? All dark shadows and bloodstained hands and gory remains? Harry looked down onto the soft forest floor, scuffing it slowly with his bare feet, before making his way back to the house.

This time he slipped in through the front door and headed to the guest bathroom to wash off.

"Potter."

It was Edward Cullen who had spoken. Harry whirled around and found the boy sitting at a glossy black piano, looking like a pale wraith, and wondered at his own preoccupation. How he had managed to miss the bronze-haired boy when he was sitting not twenty feet away?

Harry nodded his head. "Cullen," he replied in the same formal fashion, and took a hesitant step closer.

Edward gazed at the piano for a few seconds, and then fixed Harry with a hooded stare. "You were out hunting," he said, and it wasn't a question.

Harry nodded. "Er, yeah," he muttered, his gaze flitting away for a second. When he looked back, Edward was looking back down at the piano, ghosting his hands over the keys.

"I…" he began softly, and lightly pressed down on a key, filling the room with a sharp tinkling sound. He turned fully towards Harry, and a stream of moonlight bathed him in its cool glow, glossing off his white skin and making him look like a melancholy marble statue. His eyes were pale and empty in this lighting, his expression unreadable.

"I'm always listening," said Edward Cullen finally.

Harry could only find it in himself to be mildly surprised at this comment—something about Edward Cullen smacked of soft incongruity.

"…Thanks," he said awkwardly after only a small pause. Edward nodded and stood up.

"You're welcome," he said. A corner of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin, something between a smile and a smirk. "Oh, and Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Good game. You're a fair loser."

And with that he was gone, disappearing upstairs just as suddenly as he had appeared.

-

The next day was Monday, and the Cullen children had school. They all piled into a shiny silver Volvo and drove off, while Carlisle smiled and handed Harry a stack of texts on the apparently extensive subject of vampires before heading for work.

Esme patted him comfortingly on the arm after they'd all left. "Here, come sit, Harry," she told him, and sat down on the clean white sofa. Harry willingly followed her example. Something about Esme invoked easy familiarity and trust.

"I realize you must have many questions, dear," she told him, smiling softly. "Carlisle's books will probably cover any and all of them, but I'm sure I can answer some of your more immediate ones, if you wish."

"Well…I don't know very much about vampires at all," admitted Harry sheepishly. "I mean, I think I know the basics—their diet, nocturnal habits, looks—but that's about it. I guess I'll have to read up on it."

Esme nodded. "Of course," she said. "Just remember that if you ever need any help, you can always come to me or any of the rest of us. We were all newborns once, and we're more than willing to help."

Harry thanked her, and she delivered another soft pat to his arm and stood to leave.

"Wait!" he called suddenly. Esme turned, smile at ready.

"Yes?"

Harry searched for the words. "Is there something wrong with my eyes?" he blurted. "I mean, yesterday, Emmett, he seemed surprised about something…"

Esme nodded and sat back down. "I'm not entirely clear on the answer, but Carlisle explained to me that it has something to do with your being a wizard. Most vampires' eye color varies from blood red to black, though my family and I are an exception to that rule because of our altered diet—our kind has amber eyes, which darken if we go without feeding. However, when you transformed, your wizarding magic was forced to adapt itself to a drastically different sort of power. Vampires, while innately magic, do not carry the same sort of magical core a wizard does. Naturally, your wizarding magic rebelled against these changes, and so the result of that is that your eye color will remain unchanged. Other than that, your appearance is wholly vampiric."

Harry nodded, thanking Esme and retreated to his room with his books. He placed the towering pile on his desk, looking over them wearily—studying even here—before heading for the closet and positioning himself in front of the mirror.

In some odd way, he felt grateful that his eyes were still green; they preserved some small veneer of humanity. His glasses helped as well—it wasn't as if they made any significant depression on his new eyesight, and they dimmed the luminous glow his eyes seemed to give off nowadays.

Still, he could never really pass as human, and Harry knew that. It weighed heavily on him as he trudged back to the stack of books awaiting him. He would always be different, alienated from the very world he had grown up in—from everyone he had ever cared for. He thought back to Hermione, how taken she had been at that small smile, and wondered what she would say had she seen him yesterday, licking the blood off his own marble skin. Once again, he shrank back at the thought of the life before him, at the thought of his own inhumanness.

Edward Cullen's face suddenly swam before his eyes, and he suddenly thought he recognized the expression in those golden eyes.

**TBC...**


	4. Year of the Cat

**AN:** Finally, this chapter is _done! _I'm so sorry for the long wait!

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. (And also review. I find it amazing that out of the almost 300 people that have this fic on their alerts, only 50 or so have chosen to review. Two belated reviews actually inspired me to get my ass moving and finish this chapter.)

* * *

**Chapter Four: Year of the Cat**

_These days, she says, I feel my life  
Just like a river running through  
The year of the cat_

_Year of the Cat, Al Stewart_

It was the nights that bothered him the most.

Harry passed his first few days with the Cullens easily enough. He spent his time alone in his room, steadily working his way through the books Carlisle had given him. Even Hermione would have been alarmed with the rate at which he was devouring the texts. Esme and the others would come at periodic intervals to try and lure him out of his self-induced solitude. Harry knew they were worried, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Still, a week into his stay with the Cullens, Harry finally finished the last of the books. He closed it with a resigned thump and stared morosely at the cover.

He now knew nearly all there was to know about vampires. He knew their abilities and limitations, their strengths and weaknesses, their history and their imminent future. He knew that vampires were naturally reclusive, and that though they by design fascinated humans, most mortals shied away from them instinctively. He knew that vampires had first appeared in Ancient Babylonia, and that the Greek Titans had been inspired by a coven of vampires with distinctive powers.

Harry knew what he had become. He was edge, brimming with both thirst and power and now knowledge.

Setting the book aside, Harry rose and began circling the room. He picked up his wand and twirled it in his fingers. He glanced at the clock on his bedside and realized that it was 3:38 AM.

His ears picked up on a soft flapping noise coming from outside. Frowning, he strode over to the window and peered out. He smiled softly at the sight of Hedwig about a quarter mile away, soaring towards him.

"Hey girl," he murmured as she neared, and held out his arm for her. She settled in comfortably. Hedwig had been wary of him for a few days after the change, but seemed to have adjusted well. "You've had quite a long journey, haven't you?"

She affectionately nipped at his fingers and stuck out her leg. Harry nimbly untied the scroll attached. He had written to Hogwarts during his second day with the Cullens, telling Ron and Hermione that he had reached the U.S. safely and that all was well. He had even told them about the baseball game and briefly described each of the Cullens.

Hermione had obviously penned the reply—it was painstakingly neat:

_Dear Harry,_

_It's good to know that your first day with the Cullens went well. They all seem lovely, except for perhaps Rosalie, but I'm sure she's quite nice too. Ron seems quite… excited by your description of her. He's wondering if you could send a picture with your next letter. Speaking of Ron, he wants me to add that it seems to him that baseball seems "bloody exciting", but he doesn't quite understand the point of it. Personally, I think he's right. Sports are generally pointless. _

_(Before you scoff, Harry, remember that I come and cheer at every one of your Quidditch games.)_

_Anyways, I've read up some more on vampires. Apparently the Cullens are one of the two or so covens of vampires that feed on non-human blood. Most other vampires, including the Volturi in Italy, who are basically the leaders of the vampire world, indulge in human blood with gusto. _

_Really Harry, vampire history is quite fascinating. Did you know that Michelangelo, Van Gogh, and Henry Matisse were all actually one entity; a vampire that had the power of shape-shifting and that assumed many different identities throughout the ages? He was an ancient being by the name of Audric, but he passed away recently, terminating his own existence just fifty years ago. No one is quite sure how he managed the suicide, given that vampires are extremely hard to kill. It's all very remarkable… and now Ron is telling me I'd better stop this paragraph here or even you'll fall asleep._

_Anyways, I have a paper to complete for Ancient Runes that's due in just a couple weeks. And Ron has an essay for Snape due tomorrow that he hasn't even _begun_, so I think I'd better cut this letter short. We miss you, Harry, and you're always in our thoughts!_

_Love from_

_Hermione and Ron_

If vampires could feel nauseous, Harry would say he felt nauseous when he finished that letter. A sick feeling was rising in his gut—homesickness? he wondered. Not quite. It felt too… dark to be that. Perhaps he was just hungry.

Half a moment later, Harry had flitted through the open window and into the night.

He tore through the forest, narrowly skirting trees and bushes and startled animals. A few miles away from the Cullen residence, he caught a cougar mid-leap and devoured it. The blood was hot and fresh, lending his pale cheeks temporary warmth.

Longing rose in him like bile. More than anything, he wished he wasn't here, alone in a dark, foreign forest—he pictured himself at home in Hogwarts, reclining with Ron and Hermione in their favorite chairs in front of the fire, enjoying treacle tart in the Great Hall… he'd even give anything to see Malfoy's slimy countenance right now…

Harry closed his eyes, and he could see Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Neville and Luna and everyone else, growing old beneath his eyelids like they were in a movie. They would all graduate from Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione would move in together, Ginny would find someone else—Neville, maybe?—and time would caress them, accept them…

Except for him. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Harry snorted to himself. It was all rather ironic, actually. He chuckled, then began laughing, and suddenly his arms were wrapped around his middle as his chest convulsed. He had the sudden urge to _Inciendo _something.

And then his wand was in his hands, lying cool and flat against his palm. Harry fisted his hand around it and frowned. He couldn't remember having brought it…

But it was there. Harry pointed at some nearby shrubbery and whispered the incantation. Instantly the vegetation burst into blue-green flames, electric in the night air. He did this again, and again, until he was surrounded by a circle of dancing lights. His arm tingled. His wand glowed. His chest felt as though it was about to burst.

"What is this?"

The words were whispered. Harry didn't have to turn his head to recognize the dulcet tones.

"Fire." He shrugged. "Don't worry, it's magical. I control what burns."

Edward Cullen was standing a few yards away on the other side of the ring of fire. He cocked his head, then took a little leap and joined Harry inside the circle.

"This is what they teach you in England?" Edward Cullen asked. The firelight reflected in his eyes, making them glassy and unreadable.

"Pretty much." Harry shrugged again. "And other, more practical stuff I guess." He looked away. The flames lurched suddenly, licking at the midnight sky. They stayed that way, and the outside world was closed out, leaving Harry and Edward Cullen alone amidst the blaze.

"It's beautiful," Cullen complimented softly. His tone revealed only admiration.

"Thanks." Harry stood and walked out, away from the center of the circle. He reached towards the flames, wondering what they would feel like against his pale skin…

"Stop." A hand wrapped around his wrist, tugging it down. "Fire is one of the few elements that harms us. I don't know about magical fire, but in my experience, it feels awful, cold and hot at the same time, like your innards are turning to glass beneath your skin."

Harry had known this. He let the flames disappear, feeling rather irritable towards Edward. The hand around his wrist dropped, and he felt Edward's presence back away.

For some time—Harry couldn't tell how long—they were both silent and frozen, like two statues forgotten by some careless artist in the desolation of the forest. Then:

"I'm heading back. Are you coming, Potter?"

Harry turned. Cullen was looking at him expectantly through his lashes.

"Sure."

Edward set the pace. Harry hadn't expected him to go so fast. He produced a surge of speed and pushed ahead.

From behind him, Edward sped up.

Soon they were neck-in-neck, somehow entangled in a race back to the house. Harry finished first, leaping over the river, just barely ahead as he skidded to a stop a split-second before he crashed into the house.

He laughed from sheer excitement and then laughed even more at the dour look on Cullen's face.

"It's only because you're a newborn," said Edward, somewhat petulantly.

"Even so, Cullen, I won."

"Hmph. Yes. Well. We'll see in a few months, Potter." Edward's lips quirked despite himself. "Though you are quite fast. You did well in the baseball game as well, I noticed."

Harry felt suddenly self-conscious. "It's nothing really. I just…I got quite a lot of practice running back at the Dursleys'… Muggles, I mean."

Edward raised an eyebrow.

Harry floundered. "I—I'll explain it to you tomorrow, I suppose. It's a long story."

"Tomorrow then." Edward nodded his head formally. He paused, and Harry made to leave, crouching to jump towards his window.

"Oh, and Harry? I'm sorry. I'm sure you know all about fire, its just… vampires do have hearts, you know."

When Harry turned, Edward was gone. He seemed to have a fondness for mysterious exits.

The next day the Cullens skipped school. Springtime was at its zenith, and the sun had finally graced the poor, pale citizens of Forks with its smile.

Harry, who had spent the last few hours of nighttime lying flat on the bed, rose and hovered near the door. He glanced at the mirror, something he hadn't done in days. His hair was in horrible disarray. He dragged a hand through it sharply, winced, and let it be.

With a soft _click_, he pushed the door open and padded softly downstairs.

The Cullens were there: scattered throughout the living room, some draped elegantly over the cream sofa, others gazing like perfect pallid sculptures out through the glass wall. Edward Cullen was seated at the piano, frowning at it thoughtfully.

"Harry!" boomed Emmett as he entered the room. "You made it!" He grinned from his sprawl on the plush white couch, one huge arm slung haphazardly around Rosalie.

Harry grinned back. He was suddenly feeling very relaxed. Jasper came round and clapped him on the back, greeting him softly. Carlisle did likewise.

"Oh, Harry! It's so nice to see you again!" Esme was rushing towards him now, emerging from the kitchen, though Harry had no idea what she could be doing in there. She enveloped him in a warm hug.

"Thanks," muttered Harry. The Cullens were all greeting him like they hadn't seen him in years, and he felt suddenly embarrassed by his long stint of isolation.

Alice materialized at his side, resting a small hand on his elbow, smiling warmly.

"How're you feeling, Harry?" she asked brightly. "Better?"

"Er, yeah, of course," Harry said quickly. He groped to change the subject.

"Are you guys, uh, staying home today? Too much sun?"

Esme beamed. "You've obviously been doing some studying this past week, Harry."

"Yeah." Harry ducked his head. "I finished all the books."

"_All_ of them?" Esme looked surprised. "Why, Carlisle's been collecting and reading those for years."

"Er, well, student life, you know. Have to be a fast reader," Harry said lamely. Silence fell, and he could feel the Cullens all inspecting him. Harry briefly wondered if Dumbledore was having Carlisle write in with reports on him every so often.

"So, Potter. Do you know what happens to vampires in the sunlight?"

Harry glanced at Edward Cullen. Cullen was looking directly at him, his hands splayed lazily over the piano.

"Er, yeah. They get glittery and all that, you know—"

"No." Edward shook his head. "I mean, do you _know_?"

Harry felt a prick of annoyance at having been interrupted. "Well, yeah. It's the gemstone thing, I read all about it—" He was painstakingly aware of just how much he resembled Hermione right then.

"But have you _seen_ it?" Edward was smirking, as if he had sensed the sour turn Harry's mood had taken.

"…No," admitted Harry, scowling a little. The rest of the Cullens were looking back and forth between them. Alice was grinning cheerfully.

"Come on then." Edward rose and began walking toward the door. "Follow me."

Harry paused. Esme nodded. "It's lovely," she told him encouragingly. He nodded back and then followed Cullen.

They slipped from the house and into the shadows of the forest. Edward broke out into a run, with Harry close behind. They carried on like that for a few minutes before Edward stopped suddenly.

"This way," he said, glancing back at Harry before picking his way nimbly over the rocky ground. Harry did likewise. They made quick progress as they bound up the mountainside.

A few times the shadows would part for a moment and Harry would see flashes of light.

Edward pushed ahead. Finally, he jumped off ahead and disappeared into the foliage. "Up here," he called down.

Harry followed, and was suddenly blinking in the sunlight.

"Look down," he heard Edward say from nearby, and so he did, and inhaled sharply.

Harry raised his hands slowly. Light glittered and winked, reflecting off of every crevice, looking for all the world like someone had fashioned two hands out of diamonds. He lifted them hesitantly to his face. They still _felt_ the same…

"It's like a slap to the face, isn't it?"

Harry's neck snapped up. There was Edward, just a few feet away, looking like light incarnated. It seemed as if a star was concertrating solely on him.

"Sunlight reveals what we truly are. What we can never be." Cullen turned away, and Harry marveled at the way his skin rippled and shimmered, like it was made up of a thousand shining sunbeams.

"It's beautiful," Harry replied simply. He looked down at his own hands once more, feeling both exulted and terrified.

Edward glanced back at him from over his shoulder. "I suppose." He was staring out into the distance, and it was only now that Harry noticed their surroundings. They were at a small clearing at the very top of the mountain. Below them, the land ran green and smooth, dappled with vibrant sprays of pink and yellow and purple.

"No, really. It is." Edward turned, and Harry grinned at him. "Thanks, Cullen."

Edward gazed at him for a moment before grinning back. "No problem." He flopped down at Harry's side. "Now tell me about those…what was it? Mug-wugs?"

"Muggles," Harry corrected, smirking at the gross mispronunciation. "And trust me, you'd be better off not knowing about the Dursleys."

"No, really. I want to know. I've always wondered about magic and the wizarding world. Carlisle doesn't have many texts on it." Edward looked genuinely earnest, and Harry sat down beside him despite himself.

"It's a pretty long story…"

Edward gestured broadly around them. "We have nothing but time."

Harry sighed in resignation. "All right then." He frowned thoughtfully. "Where to begin?

"How about the beginning? Did that cross your mind?" Edward was smirking, and Harry scowled, though it lacked heat.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"I do. I'll be quiet now." Cullen's eyes were suddenly wide and solemn, his hands clasped.

"Good," Harry said, shoving Edward's shoulder roughly. "Now… I guess it all begun on my eleventh birthday, at the rock-on-the-sea…"

"What?"

"Er, or maybe when I was one? Or not… Maybe I should tell you a bit about my mum and dad first…"

"You're horrible at this."

"Shut it! Alright then, on my eleventh birthday…"

That night, Harry sat down and wrote his reply to Hogwarts:

_Hello Ron, Hermione,_

_I've been with the Cullens a full week now. It's not exactly been easy getting accustomed, I guess, but things have gotten better. The Cullens have been really understanding, and that's made it all a lot easier. And Hermione, my knowledge of vampires now likely outstrips even yours. You'd be proud of all the reading I've done in the past week. Perhaps it was my weird twisted way of showing how much I miss you?_

_Today it was sunny. Hermione, I'm sure you know what happens to vampires in the sunlight—explain it to Ron, will you? Though all the reading in the world can't prepare you for what it's really like seeing it. It's like, scary and also breathtaking at the same time. I've enclosed a picture I took today with the letter. (Oh, and Ron, before you ask, yes, there's a picture of Rosalie in there too.)_

_How're things at Hogwarts? Life as a vampire is actually a little bit dull. It's like…time is frozen. I suppose I should begin practicing magic once more. Dumbledore hasn't yet sent me my coursebooks or anything, but it'll give me something to do, at the very least._

_Anyways, the Cullens are calling. Alice wants me to play some sort of weird American board game with her and Jasper._

_I miss you both—_

_Harry_

He rolled the scroll up and tied it to Hedwig's leg, along with the two pictures—one of Rosalie, given to him by Emmett, and another of Edward. Harry had snapped the second one just a few hours ago, pushing a reluctant Edward back out into the sunlight after they reached home and using the wizarding camera Colin Creevy had given him last Christmas. The picture had turned out to be quite striking—it featured Edward staring moodily out into the distance, his eyes like two butterscotch-colored pools against his skin. Harry lightly skimmed a finger over one luminous cheek, and photo-Edward looked rather embarrassed, ducking his head. Harry chuckled.

**TBC...**

**AN: **Boy was that dialogue hard. I really don't have a very good feel for Harry. Tell me if you think it was too cheesy or something.


	5. Freaks and Fairies

**AN: **_So_ sorry about the long wait! Really no excuse except my lazy ass. I finally updated when I saw that over 400 people have this story on their alert-thingy. Niiice! And thank you all so much for the reviews! You're all amazing!

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**Chapter Five: Freaks and Fairies**

_Tell me where is sanity._

_I'd Love to Change the World, Ten Years After_

_-_

The next morning Harry, lying flat on his bed, was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of soft wing beats. The next second there was a tap on the window.

"I'm coming," Harry muttered under his breath, and he was at the window so fast the owl seemed rather startled. It flew in quickly, rustling its wings in his eyes in the process and dropping its package on the bed; then zoomed out, flapping its wings furiously. Harry glared after it.

The package was wrapped neatly in brown paper. It couldn't have been from Ron and Hermione; he had just written them last night. No, Harry had a good idea of what it was as he opened it. The magical tutelage packet Dumbledore had promised him.

Harry plucked his wand up from beside his bedside and twirled it lightly between his fingers. (He had never been all that great at that little trick during his time at Hogwarts, but he supposed that being a vampire had its perks.) Thumbing through a few of the textbooks, he impulsively selected one on Conjuration and nimbly leapt out the window. He ran quickly to the river and settled down on the banks there, propping open his textbook and forcing himself to read the first chapter with almost painstaking care. Conjuration had never been his strong suit.

Finally, he picked out a relatively easy spell for himself, one commonly used to conjure nourishment. Brow puckering in concentration, he held out his wand and said the incantation as clearly as he could.

A sharp tingle appeared and disappeared in his arm, and before him stood a small feast.

Harry gaped at the array, lying innocently just a couple feet away. A barrage of smells assaulted him. Pumpkin juice, coffee, lamb chops, shepherd's pie, burgers, beef stew, Yorkshire pudding, treacle tarts, ice cream…

All he'd wanted was a glass of water. Though to his credit, Harry thought, rubbing absently at his arm, there _was_ a cool, clear pitcher of water smack in the center of the whole display.

"Hungry?"

Harry whirled around. He had been so absorbed in his magic that he hadn't even noticed Edward Cullen sneaking up behind him. He could see the rest of the Cullens now too, watching him curiously through the glass wall of their house.

Harry turned back around. "Hardly." He registered the different scents, but none of them held any appeal. "Actually, I'm not sure what exactly to do with all this."

Edward glanced at the food. "Couldn't you just… make it disappear?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't thought of that. "I suppose." He glanced back down at the book, and muttered the reverse spell. It all disappeared, as well as a few rocks on the riverbed. There was suddenly a large hole of dug earth where the food had been.

"Looks like you were a bit over-zealous." Edward leaned forward, peering into the hole, from which a cool stream of water was now bubbling.

"I…suppose," Harry repeated, running his fingers up and down his arm once more. There was that tingling again… he noticed that his wand was glowing as well, a lovely greenish color, and seemed to be thrumming lightly in his fingers.

The color of magic. He had almost forgotten about that, after having been away from Hogwarts for so long. But that still didn't explain the tingling in his arm, seeming to burst from his chest and tip of his wand.

Curiously, Harry approached the river beside him. Murmuring an incantation, a small stream of water rose into the air, threaded with a faint green light. Grinning, he led it higher with his wand.

"I could never do that before, you know," he told Edward delightedly, who was watching the water with what seemed like awe. Harry's grin increased, and he twirled his hand, leading the water in merry circles around Edward, then himself.

"It's lovely," Edward said quietly, his gaze never leaving the water.

"Thank you," said Harry graciously. His eyes glinted, and he suddenly snapped his wrist forward. A moment later Edward stood blinking before him, his hair dripping onto his shoulders. Harry could hear laughter coming from the Cullen house and he turned and grinned at it, especially Emmett, who was whooping. The tingling in his chest had magnified; it felt warm and pleasant.

All of a sudden he heard an irritated growl. It was Edward Cullen, looking very much wet and very much disgruntled.

Harry laughed.

The next second he was soaked, and Edward Cullen looked far too pleased with himself. Harry scowled, swishing his wand, and suddenly a whole wall of water came crashing down onto Cullen.

More delighted laughs from the house. There was Alice's, clear and high like a tapping on glass. However, this time Harry didn't stick around to enjoy it—he just barely took a moment to absorb the look on Cullen's face before he leapt deep into the forest. Cheers followed him out, and the wind was rushing in his ears.

And then there was a soft stirring behind him. Snapping his head around for a quick second, Harry saw Edward Cullen launching himself rather violently over the riverbed. Cullen's feet were moving before he hit the ground, his expression set.

Harry grinned and put on a spurt of speed.

-

The chase was long and grueling, but Harry savored every second of it. The pure _freedom_ of the run—it was like Quidditch, only a thousand times faster. His head was pounding with excitement, his limbs thrumming with power, and Jasper and Emmett kept cheering him on from somewhere nearby.

At some point, however, Harry realized that he must have been halfway to Canada. He doubled back, taking a loping route towards the Cullen residence. Soon, the house was in sight. Harry could hear Edward behind him, and he concentrated on one final burst of speed.

However, there was a sudden shadow overhead. The next second, Harry skidded to a stop as Edward Cullen stood smirking before him.

"Going somewhere, Potter?" he said silkily, and crouched down. Harry tensed, preparing himself for the onslaught—

And suddenly, a large, lumpy sweater hit Edward's head with a soft thump. It was followed by a pair of jeans, some boxer-briefs, and then a belt, by which time Edward had recovered and dodged smoothly. He and Harry both looked up.

Alice waved at them from Harry's window. "Hey, Harry! Edward!" She flashed them a small wave before gracefully tossing another handful of clothes into the air. Harry gaped as a threadbare red t-shirt fell into his hands.

"Hey!" he said, waving the t-shirt above his head indignantly. "These are mine!"

Alice smiled at him beatifically. "Of course they are, Harry." She pitched one last bunch of clothes outside before leaping through the window and landing between Harry and Edward, directly on the bulk of Harry's wardrobe.

"Then—then—what are you doing?" Harry cried crossly. Edward was looking just as perplexed, and rather disgruntled as well.

"I've decided you need a makeover," Alice declared, gathering the clothes and tossing them smartly into the river.

Harry opened his mouth angrily, but before he could say anything, Edward scowled and interrupted. "Is this really the time, Alice? I mean, I was just about to—oh. _Oh_. Alright then."

Harry turned his suspicious glare from Alice to Edward, who was looking exceedingly smug.

Alice smiled at her brother, then turned to Harry and made her way to him on light feet. "Harry, I'm taking you shopping."

From over Alice's shoulder, Harry could see Edward grinning. Harry scowled.

"And why are you doing this exactly?" he demanded irately, presumably to Alice but glaring all the while at Edward. The latter's smirk widened.

"I've already told you, Harry. You need a makeover."

"But—"

"These clothes are…" Alice reached into the muddy crater on the side of the riverbank and delicately pinched an old pair of shorts that had been Dudley's between her thumb and her forefinger, "…inexcusable."

"I don't—"

"Of _course_ you do, Harry—"

"No, I _don't—_!"

"Besides, you're far too good-looking to be wrapped in these…things." Alice wrinkled her nose and tossed the offending garment far downriver. Harry felt flustered. He was oddly thankful that vampires couldn't blush.

"…Er…thanks," he muttered embarrassedly. "But Alice, you're forgetting that I can't go near the Muggles—um, humans. I'm under house arrest for a year, remember?"

Alice grinned. "No worries, Harry."

-

And that was how Harry found himself lured into some sort of offbeat fashion show at the Cullen house. Alice went out for a few hours whilst Harry waited, his stomach twisting in anticipation as Cullen kept sending him self-satisfied looks that did nothing whatsoever to help the situation. When Alice finally returned, she dumped an impossible number of bags into his bedroom and ordered him to try everything on.

"But—you bought _loads_ of stuff! It'll take hours!" Harry protested, staring down at the bags in trepidation. He didn't know much about Muggle shopping, or any kind of shopping for that matter, but it all looked rather pricey.

"Well, Harry, do you want to look good?" Alice asked him sternly, waggling her index finger at him.

"Actually, I don't care much either way, really—"

"Nonsense! Of course you care! Appearance and clothing are very important, Harry. Style represents a person's feelings, their personality_—_"

"Er, how—?"

"In fact, style is a gateway—?"

"Is it? To what exactly?" said Harry sarcastically and petulantly, registering that he sounded like a small whiny child and at the same time not really caring.

"To one's very _soul_, Harry, to your soul!" finished Alice dramatically, small face alight with the melodrama of her statement as she very seriously placed her hands on Harry's shoulders. She gazed soulfully into Harry's eyes.

"Alright, alright, I'll try the bloody things on!" conceded Harry after a minute of silence, shrugging sullenly out of her grasp.

He darkly watched Alice exit the room (she looked far too smug for his tastes) before starting on the assortment of shopping bags piled on the floor.

Every time he tried on a new "outfit" ("You can't just go around wearing clothes willy-nilly," said Alice wisely), he was dragged down by his self-appointed personal shopper to the living room, where the rest of the Cullens were waiting. Rosalie would look disgusted, Jasper would look sympathetic, Carlisle would smile indulgently, Esme would clap and exclaim over his supposed handsomeness, Emmett would wolf-whistle, and Edward would smirk.

It was horrible. Harry would have chosen a bloodthirsty dark lord over this _any day._

The whole process seemed to take ages, and some of the clothes Alice had picked out Harry absolutely refused to wear—like a pair of strangely poofy pants that ballooned out from the bottom and then scrunched up around his ankle. They rather resembled Jasmine's pants from the movie "Aladdin," except that they were black.

"Come on, Alice, I look—I look—I dunno, I just look bent or...or something!"

Alice blinked. "What _are_ you talking about, Harry? These pants are _so_ in right now you wouldn't believe it. They make you look exotic, like an middle-eastern prince."

"No. No, no, no. I refuse to wear this...this...crap. This crap! I've had enough. My wardrobe has more than tripled already, and we're only halfway through!"

"_Please_ Harry, I bought them just for you—"

"No—!"

"What's the problem?" Edward Cullen leaned casually against the door-frame. "Alice, did you scare Harry away with your clothes?"

Alice pouted. "He claims that one of my outfits implies homosexuality and refuses to wear it."

"Alice, I—"

Edward turned his gaze to Harry. He snorted loudly and with uncharacteristic ungainliness upon catching sight of him in the poofy pants, and Harry glared as Edward made a halfhearted attempt to hide his grin behind his palm. "What's the matter, Potter?" he managed after a moment of stifled laughter. "Are you saying that you're not completely and absolutely secure in your masculinity?"

Harry glared. "No."

"Then do you have some issues regarding your sexuality?" Edward's mouth was twitching upward, but other than that his expression was deadly serious once more.

"…No_._"

"Are you sure?"

"…_Yes._"

"Then wear the clothes. And come down quickly, please. We're waiting."

-

In the end, Alice conned him into keeping the exotic pants and all the rest of the clothes. Harry wasn't quite sure how this all had happened. Emmett kept punching him in the shoulder and taking cracks at his manhood, and Edward just couldn't stop _smirking_.

After the fashion show was over Harry collapsed on his bed upstairs, still wearing one of his outfits. (This one was thankfully quite normal, a maroon shirt and gray slacks.) He had shoved all the bags into his closet, one on top of another, and now he was seeking refuge and trying to gather the shattered remains of his dignity.

He stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, just letting his mind wander. Absently he registered the familiar dry ache in his throat. However, he wasn't quite up to leaving the sanctuary of his room yet. Emmett was still on the prowl, he was sure. Impulsively, he sprang across the room and grabbed his wand.

He muttered a quick spell and then blinked in shock. Instead of the small, plain chalice he had expected to conjure, there was a fat gold cauldron sitting on his desk, inlaid with almost garish gems. His wand hummed in a satisfied manner and pulsed with light.

"Alright…" muttered Harry slowly, internally shrugging.

Then he pulled out one of his textbooks and began leafing through it. There had to be some sort of spell for conjuring blood, at least for medicinal reasons. He found the spell he was looking for quickly, but it conjured only human blood_. _That was no good. He was supposed to have a taste only for animal blood. He licked his lips in anticipation. They felt dry and chapped.

He tapped his wand impatiently and pulled out another text. He had just begun scanning its contents when a soft tapping noise broke his concentration. Frowning, he looked to his right, where the noise was coming from.

It was his wand. It was glowing a deep green, and fat drops of liquid were leaking from its tip and dropping into the cauldron. He could see them pooling, red and dark, at the bottom. His nose twitched. The blood smelt fresh and warm and rough, like that of a cougar…

Unable to resist, he held his wand to his mouth and let it drip onto his tongue. The blood tasted wonderful, but there was that slightly off component to it_—_there was no doubt about it. This was animal blood. Harry held his wand back over the cauldron and gazed at it with glazed eyes. He had no idea whatsoever what was happening, but the blood smelled so tempting…

Suddenly, to Harry's puzzlement and delight, the drops began to increase in size and velocity. They soon thickened into a thin stream, and then into a small waterfall of blood that splashed and gurgled. When the cauldron was full, the flood disintegrated and quickly disappeared.

Harry was still baffled, but he placed his wand to the side. The scent of blood was filling the room, heady and moist. He lifted the cauldron to his lips and drank.

-

Later, he rubbed at his arm, which seemed rather warmer than usual. Its skin prickled as he pulled out a quill and some parchment.

_Ron, Hermione—_

_I know I just sent another letter last night, but I've got some recent developments that I thought I'd better fill you guys in on. _

_This morning I got the magical tutelage package Dumbledore sent me. I headed out to see if I could practice some Conjuration, but everything I tried turned out… odd. All my spells seemed to multiply or something. It's rather hard to explain… like, my wand had a mind of its own. I kept doing things I hadn't meant to do. Example: later, I tried conjuring a chalice and I got this huge cauldron. It was solid gold, too. And then I was searching for this spell on how to conjure blood when blood all of a sudden started pouring out of my wand. It was the oddest thing. And then, every time after I'd perform magic, my arm would tingle and such and I'd feel… different._

_I'm sorry. I know I'm probably not doing a very good job explaining all this, but it's all really strange. It's like my magic's gone haywire._

_Any ideas on all this? (Hermione, this is really directed at you. Nothing personal, Ron.)_

_- Harry_

**TBC...**

**-**

**AN: **Remember those pants? (Pantaloons, maybe?) They were pretty in fashion around a year ago. I don't think they ever quite picked up though...


	6. Free Fall

**AN: **Hey all! I got this chapter done quickly so as to make up for the utter shit that was the last chapter! Seriously, I reread it and realized it was total crap. (Sorry, guys.) So I rushed and finished this one up on Friday - but alas, ffnet would not allow me to sign in! I tried for ages before I was whisked away and had to spend the rest of the weekend at my relatives' house, where I couldn't possibly update.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Free Fall  
**

_Gonna free fall out into nothin'  
Gonna leave this world for a while_

_Free Fallin', Tom Petty_

_-_

The next morning found Harry pacing his room restlessly. He kept glancing out the window, though he knew it was impossible for Ron and Hermione to have replied so quickly. His textbooks lay on his bedside, untouched. He chose one at random and opened it to the first chapter. After reading and rereading the chapter three times, he realized he still didn't have any idea as to what exactly the book was about, and slammed it shut with a discontented sigh. Moments later, he opened it up again and stared in disbelief as the pages came away among his fingers. Had he really closed it that hard?

Abandoning his books, Harry stood up and resumed pacing. His wand lay innocently on his bed, and he glowered at it darkly. A few hours ago, he himself had been lying lazily on his bed, mind wandering. Absently, he had summoned a textbook from his desk. The next moment, he had leapt out of the way as the entire desk zoomed over, books and all.

Harry, utterly bewildered and more than a little anticipatory, had quickly pushed the desk aside—only to find himself staring at Emmett and Rosalie in the next room over, both of them…engaged. Emmett had barely glanced up before carrying on with his business, but Rosalie had been less accommodating. Harry cringed at the memory.

There was now a huge hole in the wall and part of the closet door. Harry had apologized repeatedly to Esme, who had come round with the rest of the Cullens at the sound of the crash (therefore worsening the situation with the room next door). She had graciously reassured him that it was fine—ignoring Rosalie's mutterings that it most certainly _was not_—and Harry had explained the circumstances to them all.

And that's how Harry had ended up here, pacing the room as day broke outside and occasionally glancing into the now-vacant room on the other side of the wall. He had come to the conclusion that he couldn't practice any more magic before receiving news from Hogwarts, but at the very least, he had reasoned, he could study a bit. Now that too was shot to hell.

Suddenly, there was soft knock on the door. Harry had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed anyone approaching. He jumped slightly before going to open it, feeling rather stupid.

"Hello, Harry." Alice beamed at him. Harry couldn't quite return the favor. He _was_ wearing one of the outfits—what choice did he have?—but it was one of the more demure ones: plain beige slacks and a burgundy sweater that had probably cost a fortune. He had been forced to accept that Alice's life could not be fulfilled without aiding the fashion-afflicted like himself, but that didn't mean he had to _like _it.

"Alice." He nodded politely. A couple seconds ticked by, during which Alice nimbly slipped past him and into the room. "What, er, what brings you here?" he asked for lack of anything better to say.

"Oh, nothing much," Alice replied breezily, not even sparing a glance at the gaping hole to her left. "Just thought you could use some sun. You're looking a little peaky." She grinned toothily.

Harry glanced outside. "It's not exactly sunny today, you know…"

Alice smiled winningly. "Is it ever?"

"Well… no, I suppose not."

Abruptly, Alice flitted over to him, grabbing his wrist in the process. "Come on, Harry," she said, moving for the door and taking him with her. "Stop moping. It's Sunday; everyone's downstairs."

Harry looked longingly over his shoulder at his room, but let himself be tugged away.

Downstairs, it wasn't quite the busy scene Alice had promised. In fact, only Carlisle and Esme were there, watching television with Edward Cullen.

Harry returned Carlisle and Esme's greetings and nodded at Edward. "Where's everyone else?" he asked the room at large, flopping down onto the sofa.

It was Alice who answered. "Jasper is out…somewhere. He wanders off by himself once in a while. Rosalie and Emmett haven't returned since the incident with the wall." She said the last bit with a slight grimace. They had stormed off to get some _real _privacy earlier. Merlin only knew what they were doing.

…Actually, everyone knew what they were doing. That was the problem.

Harry felt rather uncommonly warm. He fidgeted slightly with his sleeve, ignoring Edward's snort.

"I…see," Harry muttered. He turned to the television, where some sort of comedic sitcom was playing. Harry mostly understood the jokes, and soon all four vampires were sitting in companionable silence.

At the ending credits, Harry squinted at the screen. _'How I Met Your Mother.' Huh. _

Eventually, Carlisle and Esme announced that they were going hunting, with Alice tagging along. Edward declined, as did Harry. He wanted to see more of this 'How I Met Your Mother' show.

Unfortunately, there were no more episodes. Instead, something rather more tedious came on. Harry found himself fidgeting.

He regarded Edward through his peripheral vision. The boy—vampire—vampire-boy—was sitting a few feet away, on the other side of the couch. His eyes were blank, his expression calm and impassive as he gazed evenly ahead. He wasn't fidgeting, but Harry wondered if he was as bored as he was.

"Did you need something, Potter?" Cullen said presently, never tearing his gaze from the television.

"Er, no," said Harry hastily, wondering how Cullen had noticed the shift in his attention. He had been aiming for subtlety. "It's just… this is pretty boring, don't you think?"

The show went on commercials, and Cullen finally glanced at him. "Do you have anything better in mind?" he asked, not unkindly.

Harry stared at him for a moment, the gears in his head visibly turning. "Well, no, I—actually," he interrupted himself, a slow grin spreading across his countenance, "I do." He stood swiftly. "Hang on."

In a flash, he disappeared upstairs. The next second, he was back in the family room, standing before Edward with a sleek broomstick in hand.

"And this is…?" Cullen asked slowly, gazing at the broom with a mixture of curiousity and bemusement.

"The Firebolt. State of the art broomstick, the best there is, actually—isn't she lovely?" Harry, usually not one to brag, couldn't quite contain himself as he stroked the cool, smooth wood of his broom. It seemed to purr under his touch like an affectionate cat.

"Absolutely delightful," Edward said dryly, looking amused at his ministrations. "Now… are we doing with it—her—anyways? Don't tell me your idea of fun is cleaning the house." He snorted again. "As if you need Esme to love you more. The lost-puppy act is already working like a charm."

Harry frowned and waved his broomstick threateningly at the other vampire. "Do shut up, Cullen. It's for flying."

Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Cullen so lost. "What?" He frowned, before his eyes widened suddenly. "You mean the broom?"

Harry grinned again. "What else?" And without further ado, he marched outside. Cullen trailed after him curiously.

Outside the weather was brisk. Harry took a deep (and unnecessary) breath of air, enjoying the cool tang of it. He looked up at the sky, which was cloudy and gray looking.

Harry didn't think he'd ever seen a sky more inviting.

He took off quickly, quicker than he had ever gone before. The broom was smooth and agile beneath him, gaining speed as it rode higher. Harry swiftly found himself high in the air, the forest spread out to his right. He skimmed along the river for a bit before doubling back, occasionally doing loop-de-loops. Whooping in exertion, he suddenly pulled the broom into a sharp dive towards the ground. He found himself heading straight towards Edward Cullen—who was looking just the tiniest bit alarmed—but before he could make contact, Harry angled the broom to the right and fell to a sudden stop just before the other vampire.

"It's obvious, Potter, that this 'flying' thing doesn't much benefit a person's expected lifespan," said Edward wryly.

Harry merely smiled, feeling almost giddy. Flying after so long had been brilliant—it tasted of freedom, just as it always had. It made Harry forget things, everything.

"I guess not, Cullen. But seeing as your lifespan is already in excess, I think it'd be okay if you took a quick ride."

"Me?" Cullen eyed the broom in anticipation. "I don't think my dead heart could handle something like _that_."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come _on_, Cullen. I've seen you run almost as fast as this thing. Don't tell me you're scared."

"I'm not scared, Potter." Cullen scowled, crossing his arms. He glared at the broom for a moment. "Fine. I'll do it."

Harry grinned and offered the Firebolt. "I could ride with you, if you like."

"No thanks," said Cullen dismissively, taking the broom and examining it. "Though this thing is pretty odd; it keeps…moving."

"That's a good sign, Cullen. It's eager to fly—Probably means you're compatible or something."

"…I see," said Edward, carefully angling the broomstick and straddling it. He kicked off cautiously. Harry shouted encouragement as the broom immediately rose twenty or so feet into the air.

"That's good, Cullen!" he called. "Now just—just steer the broom, like lean forward or whatever—it'll know what you want to do!"

Edward took his word for it, leaning forward. The broom shot off into the sky, with Cullen barely swerving to avoid treetops. Harry watched concernedly for a second, but Edward emerged unharmed, flying higher than ever and grinning madly.

"This isn't half bad, Harry!" he said, and did a quick loop around the Cullen house before performing another loop around a couple of branches. "Dare me to dive?"

"Edward, wait—"

But he didn't wait for Harry's answer, pointing the Firebolt downwards and into the foliage. He narrowly missed hitting the ground, pulling out of the dive at the very last second and flying a circle around Harry before hopping off onto the ground.

"That was amazing, Harry! Honestly, I have to get myself one of these broomsticks—they're almost better than a sports car—" Edward began muttering to himself about some new automobile that Harry knew nothing whatsoever about.

"Yeah, well, you were pretty good too," Harry replied. "I've never seen someone so inexperienced fly so well."

Cullen smirked at him. "Beginner's luck." His eyes were bright and clear, his hair ruffled into terrible disarray. Harry grinned at him.

"I've also never seen someone suffering from such a drastically bad hair day."

Edward brandished the broom threateningly, but his lips twitched up into a crooked smile. "Look whose talking, Potter."

-

In the days—and nights—that passed that week, Harry and Edward would go flying often. Cullen would be at school during the morning and part of the afternoon, so Harry would use that time to comb through both his texts and Carlisle's library to find anything that could explain the malfunctions in his magic. Then Cullen would come home, and they would fly, taking occasional breaks to go hunt. Harry explained the rules of Quidditch and even took out the Snitch one cloudy afternoon.

"So you're the Seeker?" asked Cullen, watching Harry lazily toss the Snitch up and down.

"Yep." They were sitting against a tree trunk in the forest, and the air was cool and green.

"And that's the most important position, right?"

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, I mean, it all depends on how the team works together. A team can lose even if their Seeker gets the Snitch. For example, Bulgaria in 1994—"

Edward laughed. "I get it, Potter. The Seeker is _not_ the most important player—merely an unobtrusive pawn designed to pull complicated aerial stunts and make the girls swoon." Harry protested halfheartedly, but Cullen ignored him, staring thoughtfully at the fluttering golden ball. Then, "Could I try?"

"Hmm?"

"Catching the Snitch. Could I try?"

Harry blinked and sat up. "Oh, sure." He released the Snitch, putting a hand on Edward's arm to keep him from flying after it. "You might want to give it a head start."

They counted to fifteen and Edward took off. A moment later he returned, Snitch in hand.

"That wasn't too bad."

Harry blinked again. "Err, yeah." He took the Snitch from Edward's outstretched palm and examined it. "I guess this was made for human reflexes."

Edward nodded. "So…couldn't you just magic it so that's its faster?"

Harry shook his head. "I told you, Edward. My magic hasn't been quite up to speed lately. I don't want another…incident." He put significance on the word 'incident.'

Edward grinned. "Oh, that? Don't worry about it. You weren't interrupting anything significant. Rosalie and Emmett probably do that more than is healthy."

Harry began laughing in disbelief. "Isn't Rosalie your sister, or something?" he said incredulously, before pausing. "I mean…I never asked you guys how you're all related."

"Oh, we're not. Not by blood, anyway."

"Oh." Harry stared at him pensively. "Then how come you're all living together?"

"Well, I guess it all started with Carlisle. He became a vampire before all of us, in the 1600s. He spent a couple centuries wandering alone before he came across me, in 1918—"

"Merlin!"

Edward stared at him, nonplussed. "Pardon?"

Harry waved an arm in an explanatory way. "Just a wizarding saying—Merlin, you know, King Arthur and all that—the point is that you're ancient. I mean, I know about vampires being immortal and all, of course, but still… I never expected you to be so _old_."

Edward grinned wryly. "Yes, well, I was actually born in 1901. Carlisle turned me when I was seventeen."

Harry stared at him for a second in disbelief, before he shook his head and offered a small grin. "Same age as me, then."

Edward looked a little startled. "You're seventeen?"

"Yeah. Turning eighteen on 31st July, actually."

Edward smirked. "Oh. On June 20th, I'm turning—"

Just then, there was a soft screech, and they both looked up.

"Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed, reaching out his hand and letting the bird alight on his index finger. Edward watched curiously as Harry briefly stroked her white feathers before untying the scroll attached to her leg.

"What is that?" asked Cullen, watching Harry smooth the paper out and scan it.

"A letter," replied Harry. He finished reading quickly and handed it to Edward, looking thoughtful. "Here. You can read it if you like."

_Dear Harry,_

_It's Ron writing this. Hermione's at the library right now, finishing up homework that's likely due weeks from now. Apparently, all the research she's been doing on your condition has thrown her "behind schedule." Bollocks, I say. _

_But I digress—the point is that we think we know what it is. We went to Dumbledore earlier, and he and Hermione had a long chat about it. Apparently, they had the same theory and everything._

_So you know how sometimes, when people are changed into vampires, they gain new powers or whatever? Or really, their human strengths are just… exemplified. Yeah, that's it. Exemplified. And Harry, you were always a really good wizard. I know you're modest and all, but pure magical power was always just _there_. So we reckon what happened is that whole vampire thing—it exemplified your power. As in, it made it multiply. _

_Basically, your magic got a lot more potent and a hell of a lot more stronger, if Hermione's on to anything. (And she usually is.)  
_

_And that's about it, mate. Hermione reckons it's a bit out of control right now because you're not sure how to handle it. She says you have to work on that. Meditate and practice and all. You have to redesign your approach to magic. Sucks, huh? On the plus side, though, she and Dumbledore say that this is probably going to increase your magical abilities. As in, you can do spells that are a lot more stressful magically—maybe even wandless magic!_

_Anyways, yeah. I guess that's about it. How're things going in America? I've never been, but it sounds excellent—that blond chick is amazing! I'm definitely keeping the picture._

_We miss you mate! The dorm's actually quite boring without you. Seamus and Dean are always together doing…something, and I only have Neville to talk to. He's all right, of course, but he talks quite a lot about Snape. It's a bit weird._

_- Ron_

_P.S. You should try flying. Maybe your Quidditch powers got better too or something! That'd be bloody awesome._

Edward passed the scroll back to Harry, looking bemused. "Friend of yours?" he asked.

Harry was busy rereading the letter. "Hmm…? Oh, Ron? Yeah. My first, actually." At Edward's look, he clarified, "Friend. My first friend. But anyway… this letter. Apparently, they think I have some sort of special vampiric power."

Edward shrugged. "Those aren't that uncommon, actually. Alice and Jasper have one. Even _I_ have one."

Harry's head snapped up. "_What_?" he said. "I mean, I read about them, but I didn't actually think any of you—why? What can you guys do?"

"Well, they all vary. Alice can see the future—little flashes of it. She saw you coming, actually."

Harry gaped, and then a dawning look of comprehension overcame his visage. "Oh..._Oh,_" he said thoughtfully. "Alice... Alice mentioned something my first day here that. I don't know why I realized." He shook his head in wonder. "You can do the same? What about Jasper?"

Edward shook his head as well. "We're all different. Jasper can affect people's emotions. As in, he can sort of control them—calm people, cheer them, etc. He was probably quite charismatic as a human."

"And you?" Harry pressed. "What's your ability?"

Edward looked suddenly embarrassed, ducking his head. "I…I can read people's minds."

For a moment, Harry was silent. Then, "_Everyone's_ mind?"

Edward nodded. "Pretty much, yes ."

"Mine too?"

Cullen nodded again. Harry looked flabbergasted.

"Oh. Err, well then… guess I better start practicing my Occlumency," he said finally, struggling to retain some sense of normalcy despite the surreal situation and his very thorough feelings of being violated.

"…Oh?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It's like a mental shield that wizards can do. I was never much good at it, but maybe now that my magic's supposedly stronger…"

Edward grinned. "Yeah. Maybe. I wish humans could do that too."

Harry tilted his head as he studied him. "What d'you mean?"

"I don't know. It's just… reading minds gets a little overwhelming. Tiring, even. After a while, people all start to sound the same." He offered Harry a small, jaded smile.

Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to that. "Erm…I can imagine," he said finally, though of course he couldn't.

They sat in silence for a while; Harry wasn't quite sure how long. Time seemed to have changed along with him. It was now different, sluggish. Insignificant, even.

Then,

"Hey, Potter. You think you could try magicking the ball now?"

Edward was looking at him hopefully.

"Er…yeah. Sure. Why not?" He held up the forgotten Snitch and pulled his wand from his back pocket, where he had been carrying it just in case. "I don't really know a spell for this, though."

"Can't you just sort of…do it?" Edward suggested helpfully. Harry sent him a slightly scathing look.

"It's not quite that easy, Cullen. But, I guess it couldn't hurt to try…" He pointed his wand meaningfully, feeling rather stupid, and closed his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the Snitch.

Instantly, the fluttering in his hand grew more powerful, almost frenzied. With a surprised gasp, Harry released his hold. They both watched in surprise as the Snitch flew quickly away—almost too quickly to be seen—until it was lost in the bowels of the darkening forest.

Presently, Edward turned to Harry, his lips twitching upward. "What d'you say, Harry? Would you like to give chase on foot?"

Harry grinned back. "I'm game if you are."

**TBC…**

-

Because I love How I Met Your Mother, and you should too.

PS: The time frame is utterly screwed. Note how I didn't put how old Edward was turning. That's because I'm not sure when this all is happening - 1997, 2004, whatever. It's all cool with me brotha.


	7. Live Forever

**AN: **I'm very, _very_ sorry that this chapter is so late. Honestly, a lot of things have happened between this update and the last. I'll name the biggest, most obvious reason: School. School and sports have kept me tied up, and they've probably been doing the same to you readers. Honestly, this year sucks. But I think that now that things have become somewhat routine, I'll be able to update more regularly.

Anyways. Enjoy.

**Chapter Seven: Live Forever**

_Maybe you're the same as me  
We see things they'll never see  
You and I are gonna live forever_

_Live Forever, Oasis_

_-_

It was odd how time passed in the Cullen household. Harry spent his days reading the tutorials Dumbledore sent him and flying with Edward in his free time. (It remained a mystery as to whether or not the high school in Forks bothered with homework, since none of the Cullens were ever spotted doing with any.) At first Harry had attempted practical magic; those attempts ended up costing the Cullens quite a bit in repairs. So under Dumbledore's word, Harry had been restricted to studying magical theory, diving especially deeply into the world of spell enunciation, magical control, and wrist-flicking. He dimly remembered Hermione telling Ron back in first year—"Wing-_gar_-dium Levi -_o_-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long…" Now he could properly appreciate Ron's plight—at the moment, Harry would send even a feather crashing through the ceiling. It was as if he was stuck in a time warp, a tiny black hole in the fabric of life during which days could pass but nothing would happen.

And so he was surprised one day in the beginning of June when the Cullens came home from school and Emmett dumped his backpack into the rubbish bin.

"Won't be needing that anymore," he said with relish, flopping down onto the couch.

Harry was tinkering about on the piano—Edward and Esme both had been trying to teach him. So far all he could play was 'Hot Cross Buns', which only required three notes, all of which were situated right beside each other. He abandoned his feeble attempts with one last halfhearted plunk and opened his mouth—

"Because it's summertime," said Edward easily, turning to head up the stairs. Over his back, he continued, "What? It was obvious you were going to ask." There was a pause. "And no, I did _not_ read that in your mind; I could feel your eyes boring into my back." And then he disappeared into the corridor before Harry could reply.

Harry scowled. He _hated_ it when Edward looked into his mind. He had requested books on Occlumency from Ron and Hermione and spent much of his free time perusing through them, trying to glean all he could.

Unfortunately, it turned out that he was about as apt an Occlumens as he was a pianist.

-

The summer looked promising. Quidditch was now the Cullens' favorite sport—Baseball, while fun, came by only in thunderstorms; and Beaters' bats weren't nearly as loud as the aluminum kind they had to use in baseball. They played in teams of four—Harry and the girls on one team, the rest of the boys on the other. Each team had a Chaser, a Beater, a Keeper and of course a Seeker, with the Beater, Chaser, and Keeper tossing each other the balls and interchanging positions easily. The Seekers—generally Harry and Edward, who had the most lithe builds (apart from Alice, of course, but she was a very nimble Chaser and also a surprisingly strong beater)—mostly spent their time flying either above or below the others.

At that moment Jasper had just managed to toss the Quaffle past Esme and into the makeshift hoops they all had attached to the trees surrounding the clearing. He grinned proudly, moving to slap hands with Emmett, who did so enthusiastically before beginning a seemingly never-ending series of loops, which were eventually dispersed by a Bludger from Rosalie.

Harry grinned and performed a couple loop-de-loops himself—his team was still leading, 70-50. They never had found that first Snitch, the one he had enchanted himself, but Harry had ordered a new one that was enchanted to go at several times the normal speed. It worked quite well, and currently he was perusing the clearing in lazy circles, watching for both the Golden Snitch and his fellow seeker.

Edward had turned out to be a very good player, even more so than Harry had initially thought. He was very dexterous and surprisingly receptive to the broom's touch—but further than that, he had a natural tendency toward speed and recklessness in his flying, qualities that Harry himself possessed. And of course Edward had the unfair advantage of being telepathic—the second Harry caught sight of the Snitch, a wind-blown bronze head appeared in his peripheral vision. Still, as of yet, his own team had won every game, thought Harry, doing another upside-down loop, this one rather smug.

Time passed, the game continued. Harry had sunk into a strange sort of trance caused by the coolness of the wind and the methodical nature of his circling when a glint of gold flew by.

He picked up speed, feeling the tell-tale rush of air behind him signifying Edward's arrival. The Snitch was moving faster as well; it was heading straight for the woods and Harry wanted to capture it before it could hide amongst the dark pines. He grabbed at it with one arm, the other clinging haphazardly to his broom—

The Snitch flew to the right at the very last second, narrowly missing Edward before turning back the way they'd came in a wide loop. Harry swore under his breath and changed course abruptly, but it was too late; the Snitch had disappeared and all he could see was the back of Edward's reddish windblown head—

"Shit," said Harry, reaching out towards nothing, and then they collided.

The sound was terrific, a huge resonating boom, and Edward let out a small noise of surprise as he slipped from his broom, Harry grabbing for him and then feeling the smooth wood slip from his own hands.

There was another crash as they hit the ground, this one more muffled. For a second Harry simply lay there, and then he realized he was half-lying on Edward and quickly rolled onto his side.

"…Ow," he muttered, though really it didn't hurt. Instead there was something else, an odd innate shuddering that reached his bones, as if there had been an earthquake inside of him. Beside him, Edward was stirring, sitting up and scanning the sky.

"Our brooms won't leave, will they?" he asked worriedly. The Cullens had all bought themselves state-of-the-art brooms (well, Harry had ordered them and they had paid him back in excess) and Edward's _Firebolt_ was creeping higher and higher, with Harry's close behind.

"Oh! Crap," said Harry, remembering all too vividly the fate of his _Nimbus_. He sprang to his feet. "Here, er, I can—" he tugged his wand out of his back pocket, where it sat for safekeeping.

"_Accio Firebolts_!"

Suddenly, all the Cullens were falling to the ground with loud 'thwumps' and Harry was dodging a barrage of brooms.

For a second there was utter silence as the Cullens lay on the grass and stared at the sky. Harry felt his insides squeeze in mortification.

"Er… I…" His eyes flickered about nervously, catching on Rosalie, who with her long blonde curls tousled about largely resembled Medusa. "I..." Quickly, he averted his gaze and found himself looking at Edward, sprawled beside him. Edward's gaze met his before darting quickly away, and Harry watched as the corners of his mouth twitched. His eyes squinted shut. He began snickering, and his arms wrapped around his sides and his body curved forward into a half-moon.

Edward's laughter rang in the silence, and for a moment nobody moved. Then there was a sound like a tinkling bell, and all eyes turned to Alice. Soon Emmett's laugh was reverberating around the clearing as well—and suddenly the forest was awash with peals of laughter. Rosalie picked herself off the ground and strode away with graceful fury, and Harry watched her go with dismay, feeling bewildered, his insides still dancing with embarrassment.

Then something blocked his gaze, and there was an alabaster palm extended before him. Edward was grinning, his eyes pinpricks of gold against the shadows dappling his face. In the dying light his skin glistened dimly.

Harry thought he looked almost otherworldly, and then felt suddenly coy as Edward's grin faded a little. It became something small and unreadable, and he regarded Harry with an almost disquieting intensity as the latter hesitated for a moment before taking the proffered hand—it was dry and cool—and rose slowly to his feet.

Neither of them noticed the _Firebolt_ floating unobtrusively nearby until it slammed into Edward's legs and sent them both sprawling in the dirt.

"Ow! Merlin, get off of me!"

A slightly disconcerted Edward rolled to the side, allowing the tightness in Harry's stomach to fade.

"Yes," said Edward, "Merlin."

"What?" said Harry.

Edward "You're always going on about him. I thought I should try it. "

"Err—sure. Alright. Go ahead." Harry shook his head, wincing as dust fell from his hair and scattered over his clothes. "More to the point—aren't you supposed to be terribly fast and impossibly strong?" he said wryly. Edward was still looking faintly baffled, his clothing in a state of uncharacteristic disarray as he absently tugged grass and other miscellaneous bits of plant out of his hair. He scowled darkly at Harry's comment.

Harry couldn't help it. The first chuckle escaped, hovering in the air between them like a feather. It was followed quickly by another, and another, and another.

Edward was beginning to look quite petulant. "It was you who brought us to this point, Potter. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but aren't wizards supposed to be _good_ at magic?" Harry could only laugh harder, pausing occasionally to suck in deep, desperate gulps of air before dissolving once more into an unmanly succession of giggles. "And—_stop that_! You do know that you don't need to breathe, don't you?" But Edward's scowl was melting away, and his eyes narrowed in amusement. Soon he was laughing too, and everyone else was joining in again, and their mirth pulsated between them like one conjoined being.

-

The forest was empty and dark as Harry leapt from tree to tree. He was searching for Edward, who had come hunting with him, but his senses were thrown by the scent of blood, which was splattered down his front—he had just drunk from a small doe.

Eventually he heard something—a low roar, a vast contrast to the fleeting footsteps of the Cullens. Curiosity compelling him, Harry followed the sound as the brush cleared before him and air took on a cooler, sharper tinge. Soon the foliage disappeared completely, and Harry found himself at the mouth of a small clearing that trailed off into a sharp cliff. As he emerged from the trees, wind whipped at his clothes and the water's roar crashed again and again in his ears. He walked to the cliff's edge, enthralled as the ocean shifted and slipped against the rocks below. He wondered what would happen to him if he jumped.

Nothing, probably.

And so he did. A split second later, Harry was whistling through the heavens and then the water swelled all around him like something angry and alive, and his cold marble body was being tugged along by the current. Exhilarated, he remained under the surface and opened his eyes wide.

It was odd, being underwater. His vision was only very slightly impaired, and as far as he could see there was soft bluish light, punctuated only by occasional plant life. Any living creatures had disappeared, and Harry felt disconcertingly as though he was alone in the world. Then there was a splash from above, and he caught sight of something pale and large swimming about. Unlike Harry, Edward had thought to remove his shoes and shirt, and his skin had taken on a whitish sheen, as if it was glowing. Harry tugged playfully at one bare foot, and Edward dove sharply towards him.

"Harry," he mouthed, his hair swaying about his head like a copper-colored halo. Harry was reminded of the little mermaid, and he snorted abruptly. Water rushed his throat and lungs, and he coughed out of reflex, paddling for the surface. He took in a few deep, highly unnecessary breaths of air as Edward watched him, bemused.

"You know, Harry, even if you're not much good as a wizard, you could at least try and be a little graceful as a vampire," he said, amused. Harry glared and splashed a bit of water at him. Edward blinked, and Harry watched as his eyelashes fluttered, lined with dewy drops of moisture.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, and Edward said quickly, "Yes, I know, I'll shut up." He rolled his eyes. "Now come on." And then Harry could see his pallid feet flashing as Edward performed a smooth dive. Harry quickly followed.

They swam for an interminable amount of time. It seemed to Harry like they were in another world, a blurry indigo land in which there was only him and Edward. Eventually they hit soft sand, and Edward settled onto it comfortably, crossing his legs and staring expectantly up at Harry, who did the same.

"We're at the bottom of the ocean," Harry tried to say, but his voice came out in a series of unintelligible gurgles and small silvery bubbles that floated delicately away. Harry reached for one, watching as it slipped through his fingers. When he looked back down, Edward was staring at him, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners in an unmistakably affectionate expression. Harry hadn't realized the two were so close; he could trace every contour of Edward's visage—the smooth boyish cheeks, the sharp jaw-line, the incline of his nose and the slant of his lips as they tilted very slightly upwards. He felt dazed almost, but at the same time hyperaware of the water rushing all around them, enveloping them in salty blue swirls that rhythmically slapped against their skin. And then Edward's mouth brushed his, and for a moment Harry could feel a small crooked smile, soft and earnest against his own lips.

**TBC...**

-

**AN: **I think that out of all the chapters, I agonized the most over this one. I'm currently reading "Interpreter of Maladies" by Jhumpa Lahiri, and I strive to make my writing half as graceful as her's.

So. I hope you like it. Like I said, it was hard to write. I was originally going to make it a cliff-hanger, but now it's so-so. Is it to cheesy? To blah?

Oh, and: listen to the song. ("Live Forever", by Oasis, in case you don't know what I'm referring to. But _of course_ you read the lyrics.)


	8. Some Time Alone

**AN: **Finally, finally, _finally_ Chapter 8! I'm so sorry for the long wait - life has been busy lately! It's totally crunch time. My winter break started a week ago, but I've been reluctant to utilize any of my mental facilities thus far. Plus, I got halfway through the chapter before being hit with a terrible case of writer's block.

But I'm missing the point here, which is... **Merry Christmas**! This is my gift to you :-)

And now it's 4 AM and I am freaking tired... so here.

Oh, and thank you all for the freaking AWESOME reviews! Special shout-out to _kyuubi-rain_, my 200th reviewer! Ooh ooh!

PS: Remember everyone, this is an AU in that I've totally screwed around with events in Sixth and Seventh Years. Harry was attending Hogwarts during May of his Seventh Year, which is when he got bitten.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Everybody Needs Some Time On Their Own  
**

_When I look into your eyes  
I can see a love restrained  
But darlin' when I hold you  
Don't you know I feel the same_

_November Rain, Guns N' Roses_

The bottom of the ocean was nothing like Harry had expected—it was soft, and filled with an ethereal pallid light. It made him hazy, the weight of the water and the heat bubbling all around him. It seemed to be moving faster, gaining momentum, and the epicenter of it all was his lips, which were awash with warmth and a throbbing that seemed to link to the back of his head and down his neck, darting along his spinal cord and into his limbs. There were other bits of warmth, too, ghosting across his arm and fisting in his hair, and he was shivering, wanting so badly to pull them closer—

And then he opened his eyes. There was a myriad of pale skin before him, interspersed with floating strands of copper and flashes of dark eyes and lips, and Harry gasped. Then he choked, and soon he was kicking upward, his eyes on the whitish sphere wobbling in the water ahead—sunlight.

He coughed when he cleared the surface. The water rose all around him, tugging insistently at his being. Its spray peppered his face and neck like a thousand tiny droplets of ice against his skin. Without pause, Harry grabbed hold of a snag in the rocks before him and hoisted himself up. He didn't stop climbing until he'd nearly reached the top—there, for just a barely a moment, not even a second—he hesitated and looked down. Edward was still there, bobbing in the surf as he gazed heavenward. Harry thought that maybe he could make out Cullen's eyes, stark against the frothy waves, before turning back to the cliff and clearing the top.

-

Summertime proved to be more a curse than a boon.

Perhaps it would all have been better had Harry not known that Edward could read his thoughts. Undoubtedly, it all would have been lovely had Edward not been able to read minds in the first place.

Of course, Harry's original plan was to avoid Edward completely. He accomplished this by reverting to earlier tactics—he stayed shut up in his room for a couple of days, furiously throwing himself into his Occlumency. In the long run, these sad attempts only increased the turmoil in his mind, and soon objects in his bedroom took to slamming loudly and involuntarily against the wall whenever he sensed Edward walking past in the hall.

So, eventually and inevitably, he was forced to abandon Plan A. Instead, Harry ventured out of the confines of his room and into a tentative Plan B. He tried mingling with the Cullens—_all_ of them, steadfastly trying to keep his composure. It seemed to be working—Edward made no sign whatsoever that the…_incident_ had ever happened, nor that he could see it stumbling round and round Harry's head at their every meeting. After a couple of weeks, Harry even went so far as to invite Edward to a game of Quidditch.

"…All right," said Edward to the invitation, eyes golden-bright and fixed at a point somewhere over Harry's right shoulder. By unspoken agreement, they were to play one on one.

Harry pulled out his enchanted Snitch and set it loose, and they both counted to ten. Simultaneously, they kicked off the ground, heading in opposite directions, as was their wont. The air was sharp and cold, and Harry felt slightly comforted as he squinted into the sky, cheerless and drizzling, and strained his eyes for any sign of gold against the gray.

Suddenly, there came a sharp cry from Edward's direction.

Harry wheeled abruptly around.

He found Edward hanging off his broom precariously as the Firebolt jerked forward, flying as though it had a life of its own. Harry darted towards him, ready to pull Edward onto his own broom—

And Edward's Firebolt stilled, its occupant quickly wrapping both hands around his shaft and drew himself up so that he could climb back on. Harry stared.

"What was that?" he said incredulously, hovering nervously nearby.

Edward shook the hair out of his eyes, looking perplexed. "I… I don't know. It just…" He shook his head again. "I don't know."

Harry flew a slow circle around him, running his fingers along the length of Edward's broomstick. "It… it seems okay now," he said. There was nothing wrong with the broom, no pulse of magic emanating in the air around it. "Here, try flying it a bit."

Still looking bemused, Edward nevertheless flew obediently out a ways. His flight was smooth and unhindered. Encouraged by his success, he glanced back at Harry and pulled into a sharp dive.

"It's fine, Po—"

He cut himself off as the Firebolt suddenly began emitting a vivid green light and lurched upwards, bucking wildly so that he was once again dangling precariously below. In a flash, Harry had lunged downward and heaved Edward onto his broom.

They both stared at the Firebolt beside them, now quite tame. It looked perfectly ordinary, floating demurely so that it was level with the two vampires.

"What the hell is wrong with it?" said Edward, sounding almost flustered.

"I… I dunno," breathed Harry thoughtfully. "It… it must be magic—that green color; it's definitely mine."

Edward was now sitting behind him, and his breath warmed the junction between Harry's neck and shoulder. "_You're_ not doing this, are you?"

Harry shook his head roughly. "No, not me," he said. "I mean, it must be my _magic—_probably subconscious."

"I see," murmured Edward. A beat of silence, then, "Why?" Harry's Firebolt really was too small to hold two men, or at least two seemingly seventeen-year-old boys. "Why is it like this—possessed one moment, fine the next? Why is it _possessed_ in the first place?"

Harry couldn't think of a valid response. Edward's hair was wet, and it was dripping so that Harry could feel it through his shirt. "I dunno," he said finally.

"There must be something…" Edward's voice trailed off. For reasons unknown, it reminded Harry of the ebb and flow of the sea, of warm water washing over him.

"Err…" he said. "We could—I mean—let's try landing," he said awkwardly, and without further ado proceeded to aim the nose of his broom towards the grass below and make a rapid descent, hopping off as quickly as possible.

He turned to see the other Firebolt hurtling downwards as well, and reflexively seized Edward and hauled him out of the way.

"Merlin," said Harry as he stared at the two brooms. He absentmindedly gave Edward, who had been thrown into the mud, a hand up.

"Yeah," agreed Edward, not bothering to brush himself off. "It's—I think it's linked to yours."

"Actually—yeah," said Harry in surprise. He glanced incredulously at Edward, who was looking like a ragamuffin, streaked with dirt and grime. Harry wanted to take a comb to his hair, which was a bit like the pot calling the kettle black. "...Yeah, I think you're right!"

Edward nodded. "It probably needs to stay within some sort of radius of your broom—between twenty to twenty-five feet, maybe?"

"Um…yeah," said Harry again. He was suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious. "Probably." He scuffed his shoes in the wet earth beneath him and stared straight ahead at the brooms.

Edward seemed to sense his mortification, and turned back to head into the house.

"I'll leave you to your contemplations," he said somewhat sardonically. "Perhaps I'll go wash my bereft and matted hair."

Harry refused to move his gaze. "Er…sure."

It _really _would all be much better if Edward couldn't read his thoughts.

-

After that, random bursts of magic grew frequent in the Cullen household. Harry and Carlisle would be watching TV; Edward would walk into the room and the screen would flicker and turn green. Conversation between Edward and Harry led to strange objects floating orbiting the room, looping around them, and once when Edward's arm brushed Harry's a pillow imploded, covering its recipient—a very unhappy Rosalie—with a thousand downy feathers. And with each incident, the fissure in Harry's composure became exceedingly pronounced

Finally, after an elegant Persian rug tugged itself out from beneath the furniture and tried to wrap itself around Harry and Edward in the midst of conversation, throwing the entire living room into disarray, Harry was forced to accept defeat. Despite Edward's unwavering steadiness and his own steadfast attempts at being friends, these strange… setbacks weren't going away. Only one practical solution remained: he would simply have to cut off all contact. He didn't bother flying anymore—Edward's broom trailed him all over the forest—and so he spent his time reading texts from Hogwarts and practicing Occlumency. (Occasionally, he also indulged in his newest hobby—videogames, as introduced to him by Jasper and Emmett.)

He tried to explain his frustrations to Ron and Hermione:

_Ron, Hermione—_

_Things are getting worse here. Don't worry; it's nothing serious, it's just—I can't seem to control my magic anymore. I mean, I wasn't much good at it before, but these days it's almost impossible. Random explosions, fluctuations in the electricity, so on—they've become common. I don't know what it is; there's almost no trend in the happenings—well, I guess things do seem to happen rather more around Edward, but—I mean—I don't know. I really don't know. I have no idea what's going on. Probably I'm just adjusting to the changes, or something._

—_Harry_

He wasn't sure whether to send the letter off—it would probably just worry them. They might even show it to Dumbledore—Hermione did sometimes blow things out of proportion. In the end, he sent it anyways, stroking Hedwig goodbye before she flew out the window and into the clouds.

-

A week later, Ron and Hermione replied with a letter scribed in Hermione's neat penmanship.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm afraid that there are few records of your condition in our school library, or very many other libraries, either. As a result, the research I've been doing of vampires and wizards-turned-vampires has given me few concrete answers as to the outbursts in your magic. However, Ron and I have been discussing the issue, and we have a few theories—it may be possible that the fluctuations are linked to Edward. Perhaps some event between you both is affecting you emotionally and thus linked to your magic? Have you two had a row lately? Of course, there's also always just the chance that your magic is still adjusting itself, and simply going through a stage of discourse—we can't know for certain._

_Either way, Harry, you _must_ get your magic under control. You're running out of time—Voldemort is growing in influence, and though we've tried to keep word from him of your disappearance, it is almost certain that he will soon know you're not at Hogwarts anymore Once he finds out, it's highly likely that he'll try and attack Hogwarts, and quite quickly, too. Or perhaps he'll try and find out your location, and attack Forks—as of yet, we have no exact idea as to what he may do. We know—I know—that you need at least a year to resist human blood, but…well, we don't know what else to do. The Order is doing all it can, of course, it's just… we _need_ you, Harry._

_I don't mean to worry you. Don't panic__—there's still time.__ I know this is hard for you, Harry. Ron and I both do. We can't imagine what you're going through right now, and we don't mean to force you into a situation you feel you're not ready for. Even if Voldemort happens to learn of you, Snape could always warn us beforehand. And after that Voldemort—Ron keeps insisting I write 'You-Know-Who;' there it is, Ron—will need time to decide on and plan a suitable course of action. At the very least, you have a few months._

At this point, the neat print was interrupted by a messy scrawl:

_No pressure, mate! None at all—just You-Know-Who sitting on all our heads, murderous and mad as a hatter._

The script grew neat once more, excluding a few blotches of ink smattered around the text.

_That was Ron. For some reason, he desperately wanted to include that._

_Anyways…we're terribly sorry for sending you such grim post. For now, just try and work on your magic._

_Love always,_

_Hermione and Ron_

Harry finished the letter with a growing sense of urgency. He stared at Hermione's signature, the lines curling blankly across his mind. Voldemort—Voldemort was rising. People were dying whilst Harry wasted time skulking about the forest. He—he couldn't let that happen.

Grabbing some books at random, Harry tugged open the window and leapt through. He quickly disappeared into the forest, ghosting past trees at random until he managed to find a small open space. Breathing hard, he tugged his wand out of his back pocket and pointed it at a nearby evergreen. He knew he hadn't yet gotten through all the books on magical theory, but there was so much…so much of _something _bubbling within him, and he had to let it out—

"Harry!"

Edward. Harry stood stock-still, frozen almost, with his wand leveled straight across. He was suddenly deathly aware of the presence behind him—how could he not have noticed Edward coming?

"Harry!" said Edward again. "Are—are you alright?"

With a boneless movement, Harry let his arm drop. "Yes," he said softly. "What makes you say that?"

Edward paused. "In the house, I—I felt something. I heard your mind reacted strongly to something." Harry heard him shift minutely. "And then you left so quickly afterwards, and I thought maybe something…" he trailed off.

Harry shook his head. "It's nothing, it's just…" he faltered. "I'm running out of time." He closed his eyes; then opened them and turned decisively, pocketing his wand. "I need to see the Muggles."

Edward stared. "What?"

"The Muggles. The…the humans. I need to talk to them, to learn how to resist them."

"_Now_?" said Edward incredulously.

"Yes, now!" snapped Harry. "We don't have time to waste—in case you didn't know, half the wizarding world is waiting on me back in England!"

"You can't do it now!" replied Edward, looking slightly alarmed and very much bemused. "You—you've been a vampire for less than three months!"

Resolutely, Harry began marching out of the clearing and back towards the Cullen house and Forks.

"Harry—stop!" Harry tried obstinately to brush past Edward, who grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. "People could _die_ because of this!"

Harry turned back to yell hotly, "People are already dying!" and to violently pull his arm from his grasp.

For a moment, Edward gave no response, and Harry made to leave. Then,

"And your magic, Potter?"

Harry paused.

"What are you going to say when ordinary objects suddenly burst into flames around you, or spontaneously take flight ?" Harry turned around in time to see Edward quirk an eyebrow. "Like right now?"

Indeed, something strange was occurring. The trees had begun rustling around them—and hundreds of leaves were coming off, spinning round and round the clearing. Harry could see each and every one of them, flashes of green floating slowly by. They were unnatural and lovely and Harry hated them.

"It's because of you, you know," he said lowly.

Edward didn't respond, watching him.

"If…if you hadn't…if you hadn't done _that_—what you did—my magic would be perfectly fine!" Harry continued, his voice rising.

"Harry…" tried Edward.

"No!" interrupted Harry. "If you'd left well enough alone, none of this would be happening and I wouldn't be so…so _helpless_ right now!" He was stepping closer and closer to the heart of the clearing. The magic inside him was building to a sharp point inside his forehead, pressing against his skull.

"It's just—you—why—" Edward was watching him with half-lidded eyes and Harry couldn't seem to speak coherently. The leaves were spinning faster and faster, blurring together with the pressure inside of him.

"Just—" he began passionately, and then cut himself off as he took another rapid step forward as Edward did the same, and the distance between them was no more.

Edward's lips were warm and pliant, and when Harry pulled away slightly his breath was deliciously hot against his own.

"Just…" he murmured again, and found Edward's lips once more. This time his hands somehow ended up entangled in Edward's hair, his fingers curing around the back of his neck, and then Edward's hands were running over his skin, down his cheek and angling his face—

A sudden noise distracted them both, and they sprung apart as a doe scampered past the clearing. Then they watched, chests heaving, as the leaves around them froze abruptly and scattered.

**TBC...**

-

**AN: **Finished! Took me another 20 min to edit and find a title/lyric. Sorry for any mistakes. On the bright side, I giggled when writing the bits about Edward's shaft and Harry fingering his broomstick. The astute (ahem: sick-minded) reader might pick up on that.

Oh, and to an anonymous reviewer, Adam: Harry just wears his glasses out of force of habit. At this point, they don't really affect his eyesight much either way. Good point!

Happy Holidays everyone, and have a great new year! 2010 is going to be awesome!


	9. Time Is Running Out

**AN: **Between now and my last update, somehow the center of my world has shifted and become the SAT. I can hardly write anymore because I always write late at night, and now since I never get to sleep in I never get to stay up.

Anyways. Enjoy. I actually like one. Sorry if the editing is crappy. I'm tired and I have SAT hw.

**Chapter Nine: Time Is Running Out**

_I wanna play the game  
I want the friction_

_Time Is Running Out, Muse_

Back in his room it was very quiet. Harry was lying flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It seemed that no one was home.

It was almost his birthday. His eighteenth. But not really—really, he was still seventeen.

Harry sighed and lay very still. He wanted to talk to somebody. He had returned yesterday from the forest to find Hedwig's cage empty, its door swaying softly. And there was no one else he could confide in. Not here, nor in Hogwarts. But he needed to tell someone—

He wasn't...he wasn't…You know. Gay.

He wasn't.

When visions of the future crossed his mind, they were always hazy. A curtain of red hair, perhaps the gap-toothed grin of a child. Things would be nice then. They would be peaceful. They would be normal.

Edward wasn't normal. Edward was strange. He was formal. He was distant. He was intense. He was windswept and quick. He was moody and warm.

Harry opened his eyes to see a glowing clock above him. It spelled out 11:57 in bright green letters.

It wasn't fair. Why couldn't things ever just be _easy?_ Harry knew he was being whiny. He knew he was indulging in self-pity, but he couldn't seem to stop. He wanted to throw something. He wanted to smash every object in his room the way he had in Dumbledore's office after Sirius' death. He wished he had someone to talk to. Sirius would have understood.

11:59.

Harry began counting the seconds beneath his breath. He needed to keep his mind off of things. He was overanalyzing. A kiss was a kiss was a kiss. Perhaps Edward hadn't meant anything by it. Did Edward ever just not mean anything?

No. No, he didn't. Harry knew he didn't.

22.

21.

He'd have to end it. Harry would simply have to end it with Edward. Not that there was any "it" with Edward.

9.

He wanted Ginny. Ginny, with her long hair and her freckles. That was who he wanted.

8.

Harry had made up his mind. He exhaled, trying to appease the queasy churning in his middle. Everything would be fine.

5.

4.

Everything was sorted.

3.

Ginny. He wanted Ginny.

2.

He wanted—

1.

"Surprise!"

Harry sat up suddenly. Beneath him, his bed hit the floor with a loud 'thwump,' Harry bouncing on the covers. Apparently, he and the bed had been floating a few feet off the ground.

"W-what?" he said, rather stupidly.

The Cullens all grinned at him. Alice was holding a cluster of balloons, and both Jasper and Emmet were wearing party hats. Harry swung his feet round the side of the bed.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

"Edward told us," said Alice cheerily.

"How did Edward—ah. I see," said Harry stiffly. "Of course."

Edward stepped out from behind Emmet and gave Harry a wry wave. Harry looked away.

Esme came forward, smiling. "Harry birthday dear," said Esme, and gave him a hug. She stepped away, and Carlisle produced a small gift-wrapped package.

"May you have many more," he said, smiling slightly, and pressed the package into Harry's hands. Harry looked at it for a moment and then back at the Cullens.

"You, er—you shouldn't have," he said awkwardly.

"But we did," said Alice, grinning.

The present was neatly wrapped in plain brown paper. Harry ran his fingers over it and found it oddly-shaped.

"Come on—open it!" said Emmett.

Harry complied. A very small flask tumbled into his hands. Harry held it up and saw that it was filled with a murky liquid.

"A potion?" he asked.

"We weren't exactly sure what you wanted," said Esme, "but we managed to find this last-minute. It's made specifically for vampires."

"It'll make you human!" said Alice. Harry stiffened in surprise.

"It—It'll what?" he breathed, rubbing his thumb over the vial in wonder.

"But only for a day," said Edward from the back.

Harry felt the air come back into him, but there was still that sharp tingle running down his spine.

"Where'd you find this?" he asked.

"Edward got it," said Alice. "We sent him out a couple days ago to find you something."

Harry looked up at Edward, who merely gave him a small, mysterious grin.

"Thanks," said Harry, looking back towards the other Cullens. "I really—I really appreciate it."

Esme hugged him again. Alice beamed. Emmett and Jasper insisted on singing him a raucous rendition of the 'Happy Birthday' song, and then they all dragged him off to play a game of Quidditch.

Mercifully, Harry's broom managed to leave Edward's alone.

The next day, when Harry saw a reddish colored head dart past his window and into the forest, he dropped his texts and followed suit.

"Edward!" he called. "Edward!"

Edward began to disappear into the foliage.

"Edward!"

The figure ran on.

"_Edward_!" Harry hissed.

"Harry?" said Edward, turning around, and Harry had to brake abruptly.

"Oh—oof," said Harry, grabbing onto Edward's shoulder and nearly sending them both tumbling to the ground. "Sorry!"

Edward looked amused. "It's fine," he said. "Did you need anything?"

"Err—yeah," said Harry, dropping his hand. "Yeah, I, I just—thank you," he said. "For the potion."

Edward looked at him for a moment, then softly said, "You're welcome," and began turning back around.

"No—no, listen," said Harry, "Seriously, I really appreciate—"

"It's the least I could do," said Edward, now leaving.

"Edward—" said Harry, striding forward once, twice, and catching Edward by the arm—

Edward's eyes were dark and veiled, and then Harry watched as they shut. He could see Edward's eyelashes, fine and black, and the tiny creases along his eyelid. They were in tandem, breath for breath, and Harry couldn't help but close his eyes and give in.

"Don't tell anyone," he said when they pulled apart.

"What?" said Edward, half-lidded.

"Don't—don't tell anyone. About this, I mean. Please."

Edward's expression was unreadable.

"…Alright."

At first, they were hurried, like their time was running out. Their kisses were quick and frenzied, usually stolen in the half-light of the forest. There, amidst the spindly branches and filtered green light, Harry felt as though he was in a dream.

"Why do you try so hard to keep me out?" Edward asked after one such session as they were lying on the forest floor, carpeted by pine needles and soft lichens. "Of your mind, I mean," he added.

Harry glanced at him. A rare spot of sunshine was streaming in through the sky, and it felt good on Harry's skin. "I dunno." Edward was referring to how, when they were together, Harry scrupulously didn't think of them, or of home, or of anything but simple, irrelevant things, like the sky and the blades of grass beneath them. "It's…it's hard, I guess, for me to wrap my mind around the idea of someone else being in my mind." He looked away, grimacing. "The last time that happened, I screwed things up."

He let himself think about it. Edward peered intently at him.

"…I see," he said finally. He was close again, really close, and to stop himself from thinking about the cut of his cheekbones and the flecks of gold in his eyes Harry took his face in his hands and kissed him.

Edward proved himself to be a man of his word. No one else learnt about their little soirees, not even Ron and Hermione, and Harry came to love having a secret. It was like a small lozenge that he could keep tucked away within the corner of his mouth, under his tongue, to draw out whenever the mood struck him and to savor at his leisure. It was, in short, rather delicious sneaking about laughing together and snogging and exchanging the occasional heated glance. It made him feel like a renegade. He wondered what it would be like if they were at Hogwarts, drawing Edward among the stone floors he knew so well, twining his fingers through Edward's hair in some abandoned stairway. They would duck into random empty rooms and lie together in the heart of the Forbidden Forest. After all, there was nothing more to fear there—not anymore_._

August passed by remarkably well, considering the circumstances. His rendezvous' with Edward continued, in between which they would fly with each other and the rest of the Cullens and occasionally play a game of baseball. Edward helped him with his magic, too; Harry soon finished relearning magical theory and went on to the actual practice, and though things still exploded semi-periodically, oftentimes, they did what Harry wanted beforehand.

In fact, he was rather melancholy when school started up again.

Well…seven hours a day wasn't _that_ much or anything, he told himself. They still had seventeen hours together. Weekends too. He had become spoiled, having Edward around all the time to fly with and kiss and occasionally practice spells on (vampires had a partial resilience to magic, making Edward less liable to explode than most everyday test subjects). Emmett and Jasper were nice too, very fun to joke around with, and he quite liked Alice, too. In fact, he had grown rather fond of the entire Cullen family, with the possible exception of Rosalie, and he grew restless with the children out in the mornings and half of the afternoons. The house was large, and very lovely, of course, but it was still nothing more than a house, and even scouring forest was now tedious. For seven hours a day, Harry had nothing to do but ruminate on his thoughts and his frustrations, and try to keep them relatively stable so as not to shatter any nearby glass.

"No," said Edward whenever he'd come home and read Harry's thoughts.

Harry was at the door of the house, gazing longingly at the Cullen children as they stepped out of their shiny silver Volvo.

"I'm ready, Edward!" protested Harry.

"No you're not," said Edward calmly, but he shut the door of the Volvo with more force than strictly necessary.

"I'm on Harry's side," said Emmett. Edward glared at him.

"Do you even _know_ what he's on about?" he snapped acerbically.

"No." Emmett shrugged. "But I'm on his side."

Edward gestured wildly. "He—he wants to come with us! He wants to go to school!"

"Oh, Harry," began Alice sympathetically.

"I can do it!" said Harry hotly. "I know I can. Today, earlier, I—" Edward was gazing balefully at him, but he continued, "—I went towards the trail. There were hikers nearby, I could smell them, but I didn't—"

"So what?" said Edward. "Those hikers were, what, a mile away? Two miles? Three? It won't be like that in Forks, Harry! Humans will be _everywhere_, all around you, brushing up against you—you'll feel the heat coming off of them!"

"_I can handle it_! I've handled worse than this stupid thirst!" said Harry, aware that he dangerously close to shouting but unable to help himself. "I _have_ to help; I can't just stay here anymore—I'll—I'll go crazy!" He finished the last bit at a flat-out yell, and winced in shame, and felt his chest heaving with his sudden onslaught of passion.

Edward's expression was shuttered when he met his gaze. "Harry," he said very gently, "If—if you were to make a mistake, it would only take a second. Not even that. Just one moment, and everything would be ruined. We'd have to leave immediately—we might even face charges. But, worse than that—much worse—you'd have to live with what you did for the rest of your life. Vampires live long lives, you know," he finished softly.

"I know," said Harry, just as soft, "but I have to try."

They reached a compromise later that evening. After much deliberation, it was agreed that Harry be taken to the Forks' city border, with Alice, Jasper and Edward accompanying him should he succumb to temptation. They milled around on the outskirts of the road for a while, Harry holding his breath and pacing back and forth. Finally, he said, "Okay. I'm ready."

"No you're not." Edward shook his head. "That's it for now. We'll come back tomorrow."

"I'm _ready_," repeated Harry mulishly. "Let's go."

"No," said Edward, crossing his arms, equally obstinate.

"Alice?" Harry appealed.

Alice peered back and forth between Harry and Edward before exchanging glances with Jasper and saying, "We'll just stop by the Newton's sporting goods store and—"

"Alice!" said Edward crossly.

"It's only for a couple of minutes," said Alice firmly. "Besides, Jasper and you and I are all with him."

Harry allowed himself a brief, victorious grin before he took off down the road, a protesting Edward close behind.

The store was empty save for a single blond-haired teenager at the register.

"Cullen?" he said incredulously as they entered.

"Hello," said Edward smoothly, quickly putting himself between Harry and the human. "We're thinking of taking another hiking trip soon, and we thought we might need some supplies. Tents and such." In reality, Edward's enthusiasm towards hiking was nearly as \minute as his knowledge regarding the subject.

"Er…okay," said the boy slowly, if not a little curtly. "Who's he?" he said, staring curiously at Harry, who was lingering behind near the entrance.

Edward threw the latter a loaded glance. "Our cousin. He's originally from England, but he wanted to spend a year abroad. His name is—"

"Harry," said Harry, stepping forward. He stuck out his hand and wondered if perhaps he was pushing it. The Cullens certainly seemed to think so, if their disapproving glares were anything to go by."It's nice to meet you…"

"Mike," said Mike. He took Harry's outstretched hand and winced immediately. Harry, pressing his lips together and trying not to breathe, realized he was applying too much force and lessened his grip so that it was what he felt extremely loose.

They waved their linked hands up and down once before Mike withdrew his and cradled it to himself, still looking oddly at Harry.

Harry, aware of his scrutiny, tried to make himself look a bit more…human. He blinked several times, realizing he had not done so in a couple minutes, and rolled his shoulders.

"So what was it you needed, Cullen?" said Mike finally, looking away.

Edward didn't respond for a moment. "You know what?" he said finally. He didn't tear his gaze away from Harry. "Never mind. I think we're done here."

Edward wouldn't talk to Harry for the rest of the night.

"Come on, Edward," said Harry for the umpteenth time, lying on his stomach on the sofa in Edward's room. "Nothing happened! It went perfectly!"

"Except for Mike's hand, which is probably broken!" snapped Edward. "But hey, better that than his neck, right?" he added acidly.

Harry, who had been thinking exactly that, guiltily shifted.

"This is the sort of thing that proves you're _not_ ready to—to—to go to school!" Edward finished, wishing he could have phrased it so that it sounded somewhat less stupid. "And now this—and Bella—"

"Bella?" said Harry sitting up. "Who's that?"

"No-one," muttered Edward distractedly. "A new girl. I can't stop thinking about her."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

Edward was so distracted that he wasn't even tuning into Harry's thoughts. "Yeah. She…her mind is strange…blank. I can't get anything out of her. And her scent…she smells so…so…_inviting_," he finished, running a long hand through his hair, where the white of the former stood out against the bronze of the latter.

"Does she?" Harry felt stale and stiff on the sofa, sitting with his hands folded into his lap, fingers winding round and round tersely.

"Yes. Very." Edward didn't look up or stop pacing. "In fact…I think I'll skip school tomorrow. Yeah. I have to."

"That's too bad," said Harry brusquely and unsympathetically, "because I'm going."

**TBC…**

**AN: **Did you see that coming?

And... I reread Twilight and realized that Bella came at the middle of her and Edward's junior year, not the beginning. But I don't want to rewrite the story and I think we've screwed with the timeline enough for this to have no real significance.


	10. Certain Kinds of Triangles

**AN: **Chapter 10! And just in time for our one-year anniversary (almost). Those of you who've been staying with me this entire time, THANK YOU! No joke, I've never managed to keep a story going this long before - but don't worry, cos I WILL FINISH THIS!

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Certain Kinds of Triangles  
**

_Coming off that roof top,  
You're so handsome dressed in black.  
See you in the shadows,  
I'd like to see you on your back._

_To Catch A Thief, Lovage_

Edward insisted on staying home the next few days. He prowled about Harry's room, pacing up and down as Harry practiced his spells, the former stressing alternately about the latter and Bella. Harry, for his part, was surly; his stomach always seemed to be in various states of tension. He slipped away whenever he could, usually quickly shadowed by Edward, and traveled increasing lengths into Forks. He and Edward fed often—Edward to ward off Bella's spell and Harry as preventative measures before his forays into town—and soon he found himself able to stroll up and down the aisles of supermarkets or along the small suburban sidewalks, fiercely resistant to the human scent all around him.

Days slipped by in this fashion, with Edward tailing Harry and Harry frustrated with his musty texts and lifeless room. Finally, after a week, the other Cullens began insisting that Edward at least return to school.

"Tell them I have something bad. Make it contagious—Swine Flu," said Edward dismissively as Esme brought the issue of his extended absence to light.

"Edward," said Esme gently, "this girl's blood can't that potent that even you'll give in. However tempting it may be, I believe you can resist."

Edward didn't look at her. "It's not that. It's…him," he said irritably, waving a hand at Harry, who was sitting across him in the soft leather armchair.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Edward—" began Harry.

"I think Harry is grown-up enough to make his own decisions," said Alice lightly from the kitchen. Edward glared, but Harry spoke up before he could.

"She's right, Cullen—I'm legally of age in the wizarding world, you know—and in the Muggle one, too, now!" he added.

Edward's eyes narrowed. "Technically, you're just seventeen. Still a minor in Forks."

"Then I guess I could say the same of you!" snapped Harry in retort.

This didn't give Edward pause. "Harry—"

"Hang on—_listen _to me for a bit, Edward," interrupted Harry. "I—I know that you," he softened, "you don't want me to make a mistake. I understand—I know that it would only take a moment and I could slip up." He looked somber, and Edward tried again,

"Harry—"

Harry forged on. "But—I need to do this, Edward. I—" He cut himself off abruptly, twi**st**ing his fingers again and again in his lap, and looked up, waiting.

The rest of the Cullens, having somehow materialized during the argument, turned their gazes to Edward. The latter sat looking down at his lap for a moment, then at Harry, and finally nodded once.

"Fine," he muttered quietly.

Charmed as they were, the ladies at the office still wouldn't allow Edward to transfer out of fifth period biology—but they _were _beguiled enough to allow Edward to arrange Harry's schedule so that it matched his own exactly. A flurry of fake documents (the Cullens had loads of those lying around) and a day's delay and Harry found himself upon the eve of his first day at Forks High School.

He sat in the living room and flipped feverishly through his textbooks. Honors Trigonometry was something he absolutely couldn't fathom – his grade school education's worth of math hadn't exactly covered sine and cosine, let alone any of their more advanced nuances. Biology was almost as bad, and AP French was all but gibberish. AP English Literature was a smidgeon better—he had covered a few of these plays back at Hogwarts, though from an entirely different perspective (a.k.a., one that embraced magic as a reality). At least he spoke the language, he thought glumly.

"Why am I in all your classes again?" said Harry as he mournfully tried to figure out the six trigonometric functions of the triangle before him.

"The better to keep an eye on you," said Edward unsympathetically, engaged in a bruising game of chess with Jasper.

"No, I mean why am I in all of _your_ classes? What about Alice or Jasper or Emmett or…er…someone?" he finished lamely as Rosalie leveled a glare at him.

Edward frowned and pushed forward one of his pawns. "Alice is in AP Calculus, and Jasper's taking AP Physics. Emmett's a senior, and some of his classes are seniors-only—besides, he and Rosalie take all the same classes, and I doubt Rose would find your addition to their couple exactly…ideal." He grinned briefly. Rosalie sniffed and turned her head away, and Emmett, sitting flush beside her on the couch, smiled apologetically.

"Check," said Jasper as he raised one of his knights and placed it dangerously close to Edward's king. "Relax, Harry," he added, and Harry could feel himself calm perceptibly down.

The next day Edward and Harry drove to the high school in the silver Volvo while the rest of the Cullen children piled into Rosalie's red convertible—there were six of them now, and the Volvo could only seat five. Esme and Carlisle waived Harry off like proud parents as he and Edward began speeding down the winding trail leading into Forks.

"Remember," said Edward and Harry stared tensely out the window, "you have to pass yourself off as human."

"Yeah, I know," said Harry, strained. "I don't think that's going to be the hard part, actually. I was human for seventeen years, you know."

Edward rolled his eyes. "You did horribly with Newton the other day."

Harry snapped his head round to glare at him. "That went well!"

"If you plan on being heralded as a pariah at Forks, then yeah, it went marvelously," said Edward.

"M—er—Ma—uh, Newton—he liked me!"

"Harry, you likely broke his hand. I doubt he's going to be offering you a seat at his lunch table."

Harry stared at Edward for a moment. "Crap," he muttered finally. "Fine. How do I be human?"

Edward glanced at him with a long-suffering expression.

"First of all, _be gentle_," said Edward. Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yes, gentle. You don't want to accidentally rip your locker out of its hinges, do you? Or maybe knock someone's teeth out during kickball? _Or_ _worse_?"

"Fine, fine," conceded Harry hastily. "I'll be gentle."

"Good," said Edward. "And don't move too fast—or talk very quickly, for that matter. I'm surprised Newton even got anything you were saying."

Harry frowned and tried to speak slower. "Alright," he said. "Anything else?"

They were pulling into the parking lot by now. "I think that's it," said Edward as they pulled abruptly into an empty spot. "It sounds simple, but it's not." He looked Harry over critically. "You look alright, at least," he admitted. Harry had donned a plain red sweater and blue jeans that he felt fit quite well, and was using his rucksack from Hogwarts as a schoolbag. He had also very inexplicably tried to tame down his hair that morning, to no avail. "Maybe a bit better without the glasses," added Edward.

Harry shook his head. "I like them," he said, musing ruefully on how he had once hated them so. "They make my eyes less…er, shiny. Besides, they hardly make a difference at this point," he added.

Edward nodded, and then hissed "Slower," as he disembarked and found Harry already by his side. As an afterthought, he added, "And also, you might want to—I don't know—twitch a little. Blink, too. Humans never sit still."

"Sure," said Harry quietly in reply. "Okay. Blink, twitch, be gentle, slow down."

"Yes," said Edward. "Oh, and speak louder than you are right now."

They were approaching the main entrance now, and Harry knew his apprehension was unjustified since Hogwarts was _many _times the size of this school but he was apprehensive anyway. In fact, his nerves and the thirst building in his throat were coupling to make him feel ill. Thanks to Edward's driving, they were early, but the scent was everywhere, clinging onto the walls and lingering about the hallways, cloying and sweet. The few students that were milling about were watching them with curious eyes, and Harry forced himself to meet their gazes_._ These were _people, _he reminded himself. Real, flesh-and-blood people. It was rather hard for him to register anything beyond the _blood _bit though; the desire wounding about his innards, choking his lungs and pounding in his temples was all-consuming. Almost unconsciously, Harry's step quickened; he veered off to the left towards a half-startled, half-delighted-looking girl, his mouth opening almost imperceptibly as it flooded with metallic-tasting saliva. The girl opened her own mouth and began to say something, and her soft, warm, _human _perfume flooded Harry's senses 'til he was reaching out and—

—And Edward grabbed his arm and steered him in a steely manner back towards the main hallway.

"_You're not ready for this_," he hissed as they left the crestfallen girl behind.

"Shut up," replied Harry, although he himself was reeling from the near-miss. After a beat, he mumbled "Thanks" as an afterthought.

Edward released his vice-like grip and said nothing. They were walking very close together, and Harry tried to focus on his scent instead of that of the humans', before realizing Edward's was… indefinable. Something familiar and attractive and alien, all at once.

Something nice, Harry admitted grudgingly to himself.

The next second Edward shot him a look, and if Harry could have colored he would have done so.

"Shut up," he muttered again.

"I didn't say anything," said Edward quietly.

Harry rubbed at his neck self-consciously and averted his gaze to the floor.

Lauren Mallory _loved _new students. They were a dash of excitement in her otherwise mundane high-school career, they were something to pique her curiosity. It was even better if they were _male _new students—something to add to the rather limited gene pool here at Forks. And it was amazing, almost unbelievable if they were _drop-dead-gorgeous _male new students that not only added to the gene pool but sent it soaring into dizzying new heights.

Thus when she entered her first period—AP French—and found a drop-dead-gorgeous male new student sitting in the usually empty seat beside Edward Cullen, her breath caught. She couldn't help but pause for a moment in shock and delight before she made her way to her own desk, which was fortunately (and also strategically) only a couple seats behind Edward's. Instantly her hands were at her hair, smoothing down her long white-blonde tresses with new-found purpose as she scrambled to check her makeup in her hand-held mirror. She stared at the back of the new boy's dark head and all but drowned out Madame Coiles' trilled "_Bonjour!"_ and the subsequent French ramblings until she realized that the classroom had gone completely silent and everyone seemed to be focusing on the new student just as intently as she was. Belatedly, she realized that Madame had asked him to stand before the class and introduce himself.

Biting her lip, she leaned forward in her seat in anticipation. She wanted to hear him speak.

Unfortunately, the boy in question didn't seem highly responsive. Silence reigned for a couple seconds until Edward elbowed him and muttered something under his breath, and then the boy shot up out of his seat with startling speed. After a moment's pause, he stepped lightly to the front of the classroom.

The students (and Madame Coiles) held their breath in expectation.

"Hello," the boy began, "I'm—"

At this point Madame Coiles interrupted the boy for speaking in English, pointedly using her own lilting French to do so. Lauren wanted to strangle her for cutting him off. The boy merely looked blank. Out of the corner of her eye, Lauren saw Edward's lips move and the boy's expression changed to one of horror.

"Er…" he said, and then after a beat, started speaking so rapidly in French that the only thing Lauren could make out was his name—a cute, quaint name, she thought: Harry Potter. She savored the sound of his voice, and watched with disappointment when he finished and returned to his seat.

She spent the remainder of the period watching him. Five minutes before the bell rang, she began packing up, and as soon as they were dismissed she lurched out of her seat towards him.

"Hey," she said chirpily, skidding round to the front of his desk, "Harry, right?"

The boy's gaze snapped to her instantaneously. Then he mumbled something she couldn't quite catch.

"Sorry?" asked Lauren kindly, sending him what she hoped was a friendly, inviting smile.

Edward nudged the boy, mouthing something again, and the boy shrugged embarrassedly.

"Sorry—I was asking you what your name was," he said slowly.

Lauren was delighted. Not only was he new and cute, but he had an _accent_!

"Lauren," said Lauren giddily. Oh, his eyes were so _green_! She could just sink into them and never come back! With an effort, she roused herself enough to make conversation. "So where are you from, Harry?"

"England," said Harry in reply, and Lauren watched as his hands, which had been clutching at the edges of his desk with a white-knuckled intensity, released their hold and slowly began gathering his books. "I'm a foreign exchange student. I live with the Cullens," he added, nodding at Edward, who offered Lauren a brief hello.

"Cool," said Lauren blandly. The Cullens? So _that's_ why Edward seemed to be his babysitter. Come to think of it, seeing Harry and Edward together made Lauren realize that the two were…alike, in some way. Not that they particularly resembled one another; no, it was just…something about them. Their matching windswept heads, perhaps, sitting close together throughout the period and sometimes touching as one boy leaned in to whisper something to the other. Or maybe it was the fact that they were both ridiculously, fantastically good-looking; Lauren wouldn't be surprised if the Cullen abode had some sort of alarm system on it that rated its occupants physically on a scale of 1-10. Obviously, only people who hit 10-plus would be let inside.

Harry nodded and got up, offering Lauren a small smile as he did so. Lauren was momentarily dazzled, and he and Edward made their escape.

Lunchtime.

Lauren was the first to arrive at her table, and was now scanning the throng of teenagers in the cafeteria the way a lion sifts through a herd of antelope in search of the one with the limp.

Success! Harry appeared at the end of the lunch-line, followed by—surprise, surprise—Edward. They each sauntered through the queue, wordlessly accepting whatever goop the cafeteria ladies dumped on their trays. Lauren was beginning to notice that Harry's face seemed to wear a rather strange expression—his lips permanently clenched, his brow slightly furrowed. His hands were in tandem with his visage as they desperately gripped his lunch tray. He was a tortured soul, Lauren decided. Broody and intense.

She could dig that.

"Harry!" she called as he and Edward neared her table. "Hey!"

Harry slowed down, Edward doing the same. "Lauren," he said, smiling that wonderful white smile again. "Hello."

"Hello," said Cullen, polite but remote.

Lauren beamed. "Here," she said, indicating the empty chairs around her, "You wanna sit with us?" She giggled nervously. "My friends are on their way," she added.

Harry glanced at Edward, who very minutely shook his head, and Lauren's hopes fell. Then Harry turned back to her and said, "Yeah, okay."

Lauren wasn't sure what had just transpired between them, but her surprise and delight reemerged and ballooned in her chest as Harry settled in the seat beside hers, and then doubled when Edward smoothly folded himself into the chair beside him. Granted, Lauren had sworn to forget about Edward when he had rebuffed her advances freshman year, but when up against the latter's faultless features, even her resolve had to melt.

Soon the others began to arrive—Mike, Angela, Ben, Eric (he had begun sitting with them recently, most likely because of…ugh…Bella), Jessica, and finally Miss Priss herself—otherwise known Bella Swan, who took one look at Edward and hid her face behind her curtain of hair. Interestingly enough, now Edward's expression rather matched Harry's.

Harry seemed to have picked up on this as well, for he had turned towards Edward and begun murmuring something in an undertone.

"So, Harry, have you met my friends?" she interrupted, aware that the others were staring none-too-subtly at Edward and him. Harry turned toward her, and, glowing under his green-eyed gaze, Lauren continued, "Guys, this is Harry. Harry, this is M—"

"We've met," said Mike abruptly, looking distrustfully at Harry and Edward.

"You have?" said Lauren, disappointed and irrationally irritated with Mike for having interrupted her proud introduction.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Er…Martin, is it?"

"What?" said Mike, staring.

"Never mind," said Harry hastily.

"Mike," offered Lauren, realizing what was happening.

"Yes, Mike," said Harry gratefully. "Sorry, I'm terrible with names." An awkward moment ensued. For wont of anything better to do, it seemed, Harry stuck out his hand.

Mike glared at it warily, then reluctantly replied in kind. Before it was engulfed in Harry's white fingers, Lauren noticed that his palm was marked with blossoming blue and purple bruises. Harry winced as he caught sight of them.

They gingerly shook hands. As they pulled apart, Mike said, "Are your hands always like that?"

"Huh?" said Harry quizzically.

"They're freezing. Last time they were too," he added. "Are they always like that?"

Beside her, Lauren sensed Harry freeze, and two seats over Edward seemed to turn to stone.

"Er…yeah," said Harry finally. "I, uh, I had a childhood disease."

"A disease?" said Eric curiously, stepping into the conversation.

"Yeah," said Harry, nodding. "Err…yeah. It's called…frionitis." He seemed to grimace even as he said this.

"Frionitis…" began Mike skeptically, and then quieted down as Edward leveled a glare at him.

"Yeah," said Harry. "It's really rare, only occurs in the UK. It's not deadly or anything, but it leaves behind one lasting condition—cold hands." Harry hesitated, then added, "Well, cold skin, really."

Everyone stared at him. Lauren decided this was her opportunity to step in once more.

"Cool," she said, "Like, literally." She winced but tried to plaster on a smile. What had possessed her to make that _awful _pun? "So you already know Mike, and this is Angela, Ben, Eric, Jessica, and" —if her lips turned down a little at this last one, no one seemed to notice— "Bella."

Harry, who had been nodding and saying routine 'hellos', paused at this last name. "Bella Swan," he said thoughtfully.

Bella, who had been glancing alternately at Edward, Harry, and the tabletop, looked up at him properly, brown eyes wide with what Lauren was sure was practiced innocence.

"Yes?" she said softly in reply. Lauren was also positive that she carefully cultivated her voice until it reached that one quiet decibel that made boys lean in.

"It's nice to meet you," said Harry slowly. Lauren thought he might have wanted to want to say more; his mouth opened, but then he seemed to think better of it and it closed again.

Then all conversations ceased as suddenly and with a large crack, Harry's lunch tray split clean in half.

**TBC…**

**AN:** And the plot thickens!

This time I thought I'd pick lyrics that related to what Lauren's feeling, because I find her rather fun to write. I hope you guys liked this tidbit into her mind. I thought it made things pretty suspenseful cos now we don't know what Harry and Edward are really thinking.

PS: EVERYONE WATCH HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON! IT'S AWESOME!


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